Nothing but light and hope
by KeikoHPfan
Summary: Draco makes a choice during the final battle of Hogwarts. One that will change everything, even his death - or what should have been his death, anyway. Now he has to face the consequences and learn to trust those who want to help him. Not DH compliant. Will be slash (HP/DM).
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** Erm, well... you know me... Can't be too long before I start a new story. With "Of blood and love" done (there will probably be a sequel), I had only one WIP left, and this story was begging to be released. I hope you'll like it!

This first chapter is only a prologue in Draco's POV. The rest of the story will be in Harry's POV, I think.

Anyway, here you are, enjoy and tell me what you think!

HP-HP-HP-HP

« Harry Potter is dead! »

_No. Please no,_ Draco thinks desperately. Students, relatives, Aurors and Professors start to whisper loudly around him, and his vision blurs for a second. It can't be. Potter can't be dead. He has to kill the Dark Lord. Images flash through his fogged mind. Potter's barely recognizable face in Malfoy Manor. The mop of black hair in front of him when they flew the Room of Requirement a few hours ago.

Draco is brought out of his daze by his mother's voice.

"Draco!"

She's beckoning to him with eyes full of terror and desperate hope, and the Dark Lord is smirking like the fucking madman he is. Has he asked who wanted to join him? Draco takes a few steps forward, stumbling a little, until he's standing next to Longbottom, of all people. Who's bleeding from a nasty cut on his forehead and is strangely holding something that looks like the Sorting Hat.

"No" he whispers, and he's feeling both relieved and terrified. "No", he repeats, louder, looking straight at Voldemort.

His mother is sobbing and Lucius, the coward bastard, is glaring at Draco as if he's not the one responsible for their current situation. Longbottom starts to scream beside him, and Draco barely hears what he's saying. Suddenly there's a sword in the tall dark haired boy's hand, and Longbottom begins to run in direction of Nagini, and Draco feels the Dark Lord raising his wand more than he sees him.

There is one spell that Draco manages to cast without his wand. Only one.

"Protego!" he yells, and the Dark Lord's Cruciatus doesn't hit Longtbottom under Draco's shield, and the sword severs the monstrous snake's head.

It's madness, after that. Somehow Potter jumps off of Hagrid's arms and runs, and everyone is fighting again, and Draco has no idea what to do or where to hide, because, damn it all, he has no wand – and no allies anymore. No one to trust, no one to ask for help, even if there was time for that. He's crouching behind a pillar, and Salazar, is that a dead body at his feet?

There's smoke everywhere and spells and curses are being fired from every single corner of the castle, it seems. It smells like burned flesh and blood and death, and Draco wants to throw up, he wants to close his eyes and never open them again. Maybe if he just stays here, that's what will happen. Someone will finally kill him and it'll be over.

The pillar is shaking and Draco's survival instinct kicks in, sending him jogging through the Great Hall as the high column of stone collapses. He dodges curses on his way to Merlin-only-knows-where, sometimes hastily casting Protego, sometimes only kneeling on the blood-stained floor.

He doesn't see who casts the Cruciatus curse.

It doesn't even matter, because he has always known it would happen.

He's drowning in pain, the kind of white-hot pain that he knows only too well, and the back of his head hits something hard as he falls to the ground like a disarticulated doll. He can't see, he can't breathe, and he knows it's over.

_Please, Potter. Please kill him. Let my mother live the rest of her life in peace._

_Let the rest of us know nothing but light and hope as for now._

Darkness takes him, and his last conscious thought is that it feels good to surrender.


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** And here's the first real chapter! As I said, it's in Harry's POV. I hope you'll enjoy it - and I'm still working on the next chapter for 'Sleep tight, love', but it's a very important one and I don't want to mess it up, especially since I have lately less time to write.

Anyway, R&R please!

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Where is he?"

"Harry, I don't think-"

"Where is he, Kingsley?"

Harry is trying really, really hard not to shake the new Minister of Magic until he fucking answers the damn question. Kingsley must have sensed his mood because he shares a look with Hermione, who's biting her lower lip nervously and sighs deeply.

"He's in Azkaban."

"Excuse me?"

"He's in Azkaban. Like every other Death Eater and Voldemort sympathizer, until their trials at least."

"You must be joking. Tell me you're joking."

"Harry…"

"Has he been healed, at least?"

"None of them were, Kingsley, and you know how we feel about that. You can't treat them like that, or we're not better as they were."

"Get him out of there and have him healed in St Mungo's. And send a team of Mediwizards and Healers to Azkaban to deal with the injured prisoners. Hermione's right: if we behave like that, we're no better."

"Harry… I happen to agree with Hermione. I've already arranged for the injured prisoners to be seen by Healers this afternoon. But Draco Malfoy cannot and will not receive any preferential treatment."

"He saved my life! He saved Neville's life! And his mother saved my life as well! We're indebted to him! Besides, he didn't kill anyone even if he has been marked."

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I cannot agree to anything like that. He will be healed, like the others will, but that's all. No Death Eater will be released before their trial. People are still scared. They want to be reassured. They want justice."

"Is that justice? Keeping a teenager in Azkaban? Someone who's been brave enough to defy Voldemort and his own family? Who has refused to recognize me when doing so could have ensured his and his mother's safety? Who's saved Neville's life – not to mention mine - and with his life many others?"

"Harry… You don't understand. It's a really complicated time and-"

"I understand very well. I will testify at Malfoy's trial and I will get him out of Azkaban, even if I have to get him out of here myself. "

"Harry…"

Kingsley sighs and closes his eyes. He's looking weary and crushed by responsibilities. Harry would feel sorry for him if he weren't being so obtuse about Malfoy. His anger is so strong that he's actually shaking a little, and he knows he has to calm down, as Hermione reminds him with her hand tightly clenched on his forearm.

"Look, Kingsley, I know you're doing your best and I honestly don't envy you at all right now. But I'm asking for a single favor, one that shouldn't even be a problem considering what this particular prisoner has done for our side. And I would have expected you to be more understanding on that particular matter."

"I can't make any exception. There will be a riot if it becomes of public knowledge that we're releasing Death Eaters!"

"I'm willing to give an interview to the Prophet to explain it! Or to give a press conference or whatever you'd want me to do!"

"I'm sorry, Harry. It's my final answer."

"Alright, then. I think we're done. I expect Draco Malfoy to be healed and perfectly healthy on his trial, or believe me, I will sue the Ministry. Goodbye, Kingsley."

Harry slams the door behind him, startling several Ministry's employees quite badly. He knows Hermione is trying to smooth things out with Kingsley, but frankly he doesn't care anymore.

What is the point in being the bloody Savior, in fighting off reporters everywhere he goes, in smiling and being nice to random wizards –who didn't lift a bloody finger during the war, for most of them - if he can't even get a single innocent person out of jail? It's so frustrating.

"Harry! Wait!"

"Hermione, if you're going to tell me how Kingsley is right and-"

"No, of course not. I only thought we could see Arthur and ask him if he knows a good attorney. One that would have no link to Pureblood circles or dark families. Both competent and irreproachable. We'll need all the help we can get if we want Malfoy to be acquitted."

"You're the best, you know that?"

Hermione blushes prettily and smiles.

"Of course I know. Come on, let's prepare this properly. I need to check some books and to ask Percy a few things before we can get anything done."

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Merlin…" Harry whispers, and even Ron is looking shocked – and he has been more than reluctant to take any part in Malfoy's defense. Only Hermione's constant nagging convinced him to be here today.

Malfoy is looking way too pale in his grey prisoner's suit. He seems to have been reasonably well-fed – he's not looking skinnier than he has been for the past two years, at least – and there's a tightly wrapped white bandage around his head, proof that he has been healed. His grey eyes look around without seeing, just like his attorney has told them. Apparently his blindness is a consequence of the cranial trauma. Hopefully only a temporary one.

His ankles and wrists are bound together with heavy-looking chains, forcing him to walk very slowly. Harry's heart clenches in his chest at the sight, and he doesn't dare looking at Narcissa Malfoy, who is sitting on the front row. This is so, so wrong.

Ryan Whitheley, the attorney they have hired for Malfoy's defense, kindly takes Malfoy's elbow and leads him to his seat in the middle of the room, all the while quietly whispering what Harry guesses are words of reassurance in the blonde's ear.

Ryan is a middle-aged wizard, with dirty blond hair and kind blue eyes. He has spent the war trying to argue for Muggle-born wizards and witches, even hiding some of them in his tiny flat at one point. He's one of Arthur's colleagues' partner, and a well-liked and well-known attorney. He has agreed to take Malfoy's case without a single question, and has organized to visit him in Azkaban the same day.

Harry shifts uneasily in his seat, hoping that he has not been too optimistic about today's trial issue, because the furious whispers around them are not that encouraging. Hopefully Ryan's competence and Harry's fame and current aura will be enough.

Questions are asked and answered, and with Ryan's help, Malfoy is able to do reasonably well, even if he's still looking terrified, and even if his voice is so small and shuddering that they sometimes have trouble understanding him at all. Harry can't imagine how scaring it must be, to sit here, chained and blind, to have to relive all those terrible things.

Harry testifies, and Neville does as well, his voice strong and his gaze unwavering, and both Hermione and Ron smile at the sight – gone is the clumsy teenager, gone the awkward boy of their childhood. Neville nods to Harry on his way back to his seat, and Harry grins. He must remember to buy him something after the trial.

The judge speaks at least, her voice a displeasing shrill echoing in the silent room.

"It is written that Mr. Harry Potter has agreed to vouch for Mr. Draco Malfoy, and to house him during one year as a guarantee. Is that correct, Mr Potter?"

"It is."

"Unfortunately we would need a second wizard to vouch for Mr Malfoy, and I see that none could be found."

Harry feels Ron moves beside him – he has refused to do it, in spite of Harry's and Hermione's numerous pleas.

"Miss Granger has offered to vouch for him, but unfortunately the law is an old one, and it isn't possible for a witch to vouch for a wizard."

"I'm willing to vouch for Draco Malfoy."

Harry turns his head so quickly that his vision is spinning for a moment. Neville is standing, a determined look in his eyes. Harry sends him a thankful smile – and makes a mental note to send him something very expensive - and turns around to smirk at the judge. _Take that, you old cow._

She actually blinks a few times. She has no way to refuse – the conditions for Malfoy's release are reunited, and she knows it. Plus two war-heroes are vouching for him. She can't refuse.

"Draco Malfoy is released from Azkaban immediately. He will have to live at Mr. Potter's house for a whole year, and to report to the Auror Departement once a month during this time."

There are tears on Narcissas' face, and Malfoy is shaking so badly in his seat that Ryan takes both the blonde's hands in his, whispering urgently, a huge smile on his face.

They've won. Malfoy's free.

Well, free to come and live in Grimmauld Place with Harry, at least.

Harry is a bit worried about that part – which is probably why he hasn't thought that much about it during the last weeks, to be honest.

But first things first. Harry stands up, followed by a beaming Hermione and a very obviously sulking Ron. An Auror is freeing Malfoy from his chains when they reach him, and Ryan is shaking his hand. He nods to Harry before hurrying to speak to Narcissa – she's not allowed to take her son home, and he has to make it clear.

Harry takes a cautious step forward and feels Hermione's comforting squeeze on his shoulder.

"Malfoy? It's Harry. Hum. Potter. Er… I know it's a bit confusing and awkward, but, er, let's take you home, alright?"

Malfoy doesn't react at all. Dirty strands of silver-blond hair are framing his too-pale face, and his cheeks are stained with dirt and dried tears. Harry sighs and takes his elbow to guide him out of the crowded court room, walking briskly through the avid reporters and curious audience, and all the while wondering what the hell he's getting himself into.

It's too late anyway.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** Thanks to those who took the time to review, and all my followers! Here's the second chapter, I hope you'll enjoy it!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Harry manages to convince Hermione and Ron to go to the Burrow, and Apparate with Malfoy on Grimmauld Place doorstep. It's not that he doesn't want them here, it's just that it's going to be awkward enough with just the two of them. And he's not sure Ron would manage to keep his thoughts to himself – and that's not something he wants to deal with today. Or ever, for that matter.

Harry opens the door and gently leads Malfoy inside.

"Well, here we are. It's my home. I think your mother must have been there as a kid. It's the Black House. It was my godfather's, Sirius. He left it to me in his will, and well, I'm rather fond of it. Of course it could do with a bit of redecorating, but I'm working on it."

He's babbling and he's aware of it, but he can't seem to help himself. Malfoy is gripping his forearm almost too tightly, his pale face even whiter in the dim light of the hallway.

"Erm, there's an house-elf, Kreacher. He's a bit odd, but he's not a bad sort. And he'll adore you, with you being actually a Malfoy and all. Since you're… er… I mean…"

"Blind?" Malfoy whispers, and Harry doesn't know if he's relieved to hear his voice or worried that the blonde's voice sounds so weak and hoarse, so unlike the boy he used to know.

"Yeah, that. I've thought it would be better for you to have your bedroom on the first floor. There was no bathroom attached to this one, but Bill Weasley and his wife helped me, and, well, I think it'll do. So, that's it. The room is square. From where we stand, there's a window on the right, with a desk and a chair. On the middle, there's the bed, and a wardrobe on the left. Your mother has arranged for your things to be sent here. Tell me if you need anything. Next to the wardrobe, there's a door to your bathroom. Let me show you – er, I mean… well…" Harry deadpans, and wonders how the hell one can be so stupid. He suddenly wants to kick himself.

Malfoy doesn't react, he only seems to wait for Harry to lead him to the bathroom. Harry clears his throat awkwardly and takes Malfoy's elbow once more.

"There's a tub and a shower. I didn't know what you would prefer. Here's the loo, and the sink. D'you reckon it will do?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Well, I didn't think all those stairs would be very practical, at least for now… When you'll see again, you'll move in whatever room you prefer, of course and-"

"No. Why are you helping me?"

"Oh! Well. I could. And you didn't deserve to stay in Azkaban. By the way, I sorry they sent you there at all, I tried my best to get you out of there as soon as I knew, but… there wasn't anything I could do."

"You're helping me because it's the right thing to do?"

Malfoy sounds incredulous, and his voice is much more like it used to be – Harry is not sure it's a good thing.

"Yes. That, and your mother asked for my help. I would have done it anyway, but… I understand what it is to lose your family. She'll fight for you not matter what. And I respect that."

That surprises Malfoy, apparently, because he's suddenly breathing way too fast, his hands blindly searching for something to lean on, and Harry stupidly grabs his hands.

"Is she there?"

"No. She can't visit you until next month. After your first appointment with the Aurors, you know? Then she'll be free to come and visit you as often as she wants. She could write to you, though. I could read her letters to you and-"

"Yes, of course Potter. As if I would let you read my correspondence."

Harry rolls his eyes. Honestly, it's ridiculous.

"Suit yourself. I guess you want to take a bath. I left towels next to the tub, and your clothes are in the wardrobe. Will you be alright?"

Malfoy looks somewhat panicked for a moment, weirdly unsure of himself. It's quickly gone, though.

"I think I'll manage."

"Alright. Kreacher will make us some dinner in an hour."

Malfoy just nods, and Harry leaves the room without looking back.

As soon as he's in the living-room, he collapses in the couch. It could have been worse, of course. And Harry knows Malfoy's rude comments are mostly caused by his fear to lose his dignity, his pride, his independence. Merlin knows Harry would probably lash out on everybody if he were in Malfoy's shoes. Mostly, the blonde seems lost and afraid.

Harry hopes he really will manage on his own, because helping a naked Draco Malfoy to take his bath is definitely not what they both need. Malfoy would never forgive Harry to witness such a moment and Harry would feel awkward for the rest of their shared time.

Well, more awkward than he already feels, that is.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Harry has no idea what to do about this.

Dinner has been weird enough. Kreacher has happily brought a clean and properly dressed Malfoy in the kitchen, helping him to sit in front of Harry, whose pathetic attempts at small-talk were rewarded by raised eyebrows and half-hearted sneers. Then he has to force himself to stay still and not reach out to help Malfoy, who has had extreme difficulties to eat without spilling his food everywhere – and who, judging by his flaming cheeks, was aware of the fact.

At the same time, it has been oddly satisfying to watch the blonde struggle like that. And Harry, to his shame, has felt a surge of vindictive enjoyment for the tiniest moment. It was wrong and cruel and petty, but for a second, Harry couldn't help but smirk and feel pleased to see Malfoy in his state.

And now… Now Malfoy is sitting on his bed, in the dark, his eyes open but not seeing, his too-thin arms holding his knees close to his chest. He's rocking himself softly, looking terrified and lonely, and it must be the saddest thing Harry has ever witnessed.

Harry must have made some kind of noise, because the blonde head raises and Malfoy is suddenly looking straight at him. Even if Harry knows that Malfoy cannot actually see him, his breath hitches.

"Erm… Malfoy? Are you alright?"

Harry can see the scowl forming and resolutely takes a few steps forward, until he's standing in front of the other teen.

"I won't hurt you or mock you or anything, Malfoy. I just… I want you to feel at ease here. Is there something you need? Something that would make you more comfortable here?"

Malfoy seems to think about it, his face taut and his eyes moving weirdly from right to left.

"Could you… Could you perhaps call me Draco?"

"What?"

Fuck. That's unexpected.

"If… If we're going to spend time together… if… if you're helping me and all… I'd like you to call me Draco. Please?"

"Alright. Actually it's a good idea. No offense, but your last name reminds me too much of your father."

Draco's eyes close, as if to hide something, and he whispers quietly.

"Yes. There's that, too."

"Okay. Do you… do you need something?"

"No. It's just… Too silent. I've spent weeks there, and…" Malfoy shudders and Harry tries very hard not to think about Azkaban. "It's never quiet there. Never. It's kind of… I don't know."

"It's alright. Would some music help? I could turn on the radio, if you want."

"I… Yes. If it's alright with you."

"It is."

Harry does as proposed, and then leaves. Just as he's closing the door behind him, Draco's broken voice stops him.

"Harry… Thank you."

"You're welcome" he whispers.

He goes to bed grinning, and thinking that yes, it could definitely have been worse.


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** Thanks for the ones who took the time to let me a review, and to all my followers and readers! Here's the third chapter, I hope you'll like it! Anyway, enjoy and review!

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Draco? Healer Johnson is here to check on your injuries."

The petite woman next to him takes a step forward and takes Draco's limp hand in hers, whispering a kind and soothing "good morning". She's a witch in her mid-fifties or so, with dark skin and long grey hair and startling dark green eyes that shine with intelligence. She nods to Harry and he leaves the room, hoping she'll find a way to help the blonde teen more. Maybe she'll be able to find what's wrong with his sight. One can always hope. Harry sighs and goes to the kitchen to make himself a cup of strong tea.

Healer Johnson is one of the best Healers in St Mungo's. She usually doesn't visit patients home, but Hermione somehow managed to convince her – maybe the fact that it's a favor for Harry Potter helped, or maybe she's just curious about Malfoy's case, or maybe it's just Hermione's persuasion power. Anyway, she's there and Harry hopes it will do Draco some good.

The night has gone uneventfully, but Draco has been quiet and withdrawn since breakfast. Harry almost misses his rude retorts. Almost. There's something about this new quiet version of Malfoy – Draco – that makes Harry slightly uncomfortable.

"Mr. Potter?"

"Yes?"

"Will you be the one taking care of Mr. Malfoy during his recovery?"

"Erm... yes, I suppose so."

"Alright. Patient information is confidential, but there are some things I can – and should – tell you if you're his caretaker."

"Oh. Yes."

His caretaker? Shit, that's what he is, isn't it?

"Mr Malfoy's head injury has been healed superficially during his, erm, stay in Azkaban. His current blindness is due to brain damage, though, and this has not been taken care of. I've done what I could for now, and will have to see him once a week as from now. I have to say that I can't be sure it will be successful."

"What... are you saying he could remain blind?"

"Mr. Potter, you have to understand that, magic or not, some injuries are more complicated to heal than others. Head injuries are particularly tricky, because we know so little about brain functions. Using magic in those areas does sometimes more bad than good. We have to proceed slowly and carefully. In Mr. Malfoy's case, his injury was not treated properly from the start, and I'm not sure if he will recover. He could recover fully, or only partially, or not at all. I'll do my best, but Mr. Malfoy is aware of that fact, and you should be as well. He must learn to live with his blindness, because there is a chance that it will not evolve at all. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Sorry, this is really a shock. I really thought it was temporary."

"There's still hope, but you must keep in mind that he might remain blind. It's a pity that the magical world doesn't have any occupational therapist. It would really help him, but I think it wouldn't be wise to have a Muggle one taking care of Mr. Malfoy, especially not in this house."

Harry winces.

"Probably not."

But maybe he can learn more about that? He must remember to ask Hermione about it.

"His magic is strong, though, and with a little practice he should be able to Summon things and catch them without seeing. Did you take his wand away?"

The Healer is eying him suspiciously and Harry feels himself blush.

"No, I didn't." Well, technically, he did, but she doesn't need to know that. "It was lost in the battle. Mr. Ollivander will come this afternoon to find Draco a new one."

"Oh! Good. He'll need it."

"Is there something else?"

"Yes. Mr. Malfoy is depressed. No need to be a Mind Healer to see it."

Harry snorts out loud.

"Well, there's been a war, you know. We've all seen and done things that weren't that nice. We're probably all fucked up one way or another."

"Probably. But Mr. Malfoy has to deal with a lot of things on top of those traumatic events, and he has made a lovely stay in Azkaban. I would advise for him to see a Mind Healer, but I'm not sure who I could trust with his, let's say, particular case." Healer Johnson sends him a speculative look that Harry doesn't like one bit. She looks like Hermione when she gets a particularly crazy idea, like SPEW for example. "As I think you've got things to come to term with as well, it would be a good idea to talk with him."

"Er... what? No, no. No way."

"And try to see what he likes to do, to eat. Little things that would bring him pleasure and positivity. He'll need that. I'll see you both next week, Mr. Potter. Have a nice day!"

"Wait, I don't think-"

But it's too late, Healer Johnson is gone, a smug smirk on her face and her long grey hair bouncing behind her, and Harry is left to wonder why the hell he has offered to take Draco bloody Malfoy in his home.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Ollivander. I know it must not have been easy."

"In fact, it was. I'm indebted to you – perhaps more than everyone else. And I have no personal grudge against the younger Malfoy. I understand that he's not his father and that my stay in the Malfoy Manor had nothing to do with him."

"Thank you nonetheless, Mr. Ollivander. It's very important that Draco gets a new wand, especially with his new disability."

"Disability?"

"Yes, he's blind. Hopefully it's only temporary. This way, please."

Draco is sitting in Harry's kitchen, sipping on a cup of tea while Kreacher annoys him to no end with countless tales of the Black family. Harry's not sure that Draco does even listen to the house-elf's high-pitched babbling – the sound is probably reassuring to him. Harry has a hard time imagining what it must be like, to be blind all of a sudden. To wake up to nothing but darkness – the irony of it is not lost on him. As if they hadn't experienced enough darkness to last them a lifetime already.

"Draco? Mr. Ollivander is here."

Draco suddenly stiffens, his hands wrapped too tightly around his mug, as if he's afraid to let go.

"It's okay, Mr. Malfoy. I'm here to find you another wand. Let's begin, shall we?"

Mr. Ollivander's tone is surprisingly gentle, and Draco only nods wordlessly.

Harry watches as the wandmaker puts wand after wand in Draco's right hand, and as the old man is looking more and more puzzled. He shakes his head slightly and mutters softly to himself, finally holding a wand made of a clear wood, with a carved handle.

"Let's see how you're doing with this one."

Draco lets out a little gasp of surprise as soon as the wand touches his hand, and whispers "Lumos" in a quiet and reverent voice. Light comes out, bright and clear, and both Mr. Ollivander and Harry smile.

"Yes, I think that's it. Quite astonishing, really. Maple wood, with a dragon heartstring core. A good wand, Mr. Malfoy. Pliant and powerful. I think it will suit you just fine."

"I don't have any money for it" Draco whispers, already holding the wand as if he expects the wandmaker to take it back.

"Mr. Potter took care of this for you. If I may say so… We use to say 'second wand, second chance'. Do not waste it. Goodbye, Mr. Malfoy."

Harry stays in the kitchen, looking the way Draco touches his wand, his fingertips grazing the wood lightly. There are suddenly tears rolling down his face and Harry tries to slip out of the room without being heard, but Malfoy's hoarse voice stops him.

"Harry?"

"I'm here, Draco."

"What did you do with my previous wand?"

"I destroyed it. I'm sorry. I destroyed mine and the El- the wand Voldemort had been using in the end as well. I thought it was better this way."

"Don't apologize. You did well. I like this one better anyway."

"Oh! Great! Great, then." It is confusing, because it means Draco really as changed, not only superficially or in the spur of the moment, but deeply and fundamentally. It's sobering, really. Especially considering which wand he's now holding in his pale hands.

"And thank you for that. And for the Healer. I'll find a way to repay you as soon as I can."

Harry almost answers that it won't be necessary, but the expression on Draco's face makes him change his mind. It's almost like he's pleading.

"You're welcome. And there's no hurry."

"Healer Johnson said I might… stay like that. Blind, I mean."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Shit. That didn't sound very convincing, even to his own ears, Harry realizes with a wince.

"Did she tell you?"

"Yes." There's no point in lying. "Sorry. She thought it would be better if I knew."

"It's alright. You're terrible at lying, you know. I can't even see you and I knew you weren't really surprised."

"Yeah, well. Some things don't change, do they?"

"I suppose so."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly, no."

"Alright, then. I'll still say this, and I won't say it again, alright? I'm here if you need something. Anything, really. I'm here if you want to talk, or just if you don't want to be alone. I'll help you to do things by yourself as best as I can. I expect nothing in return and I'm not doing it to use it against you or some such Slytherin nonsense. I have to meet Hermione and Ron for dinner. I'll let you get used to your new wand, and Kreacher is here if you need him. I think he managed to cook some beef casserole or something – that little sneaky thing is only too happy to get rid of me and have you for himself. I'll go now. See you tomorrow, Draco."

"Have a nice evening" comes the quiet answer, and there's something else in Draco's voice, something more than the usual sadness and weariness. Something that Harry can't name, but that makes his throat feel too tight for a moment.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** Thank you for your support! Here's the new chapter! It's a bit short, but I couldn't make it any longer or I would have to include next one as well! So, here you are, please enjoy and let me loads of reviews!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Harry comes back home tired and irritated. Honestly, spending the whole evening trying to justify everything he has done for Draco so far has been annoying as hell.

Hermione is more supportive than Ron about the whole thing, though she's not so thrilled about him living in Grimmauld Place with Harry, and is definitely upset about the new wand. Honestly, what did she expect? That he would keep Draco here like some kind of prisoner? That he would forbid him to do magic, even when it could help him to cope with his blindness?

And all that useless chatter about his relationship with Ginny and how Draco's presence could make things difficult for the two of them… Ginny and him are dating – if 'went to the restaurant twice and gave a kiss goodnight afterwards' is qualified as dating – has nothing to do with Draco living with him.

Harry had expected Ron to be on his side, especially the redhead had been the one to drag an unconscious Draco away from the battle and to hide him behind a statue, and to remind the rescue team from St Mungo's of his location afterwards. Ron has always said he had only done it because the 'bloody git' had saved Neville, and he seems to regret it now that Harry has decided to take the matter in his own hands.

Anyway, there is nothing to discuss. Draco will live here until he's allowed to go and live somewhere else, and if it makes his friends uncomfortable, well, it's their problem. They can always meet at the Burrow or in Hogsmead or anywhere, really. Draco has nowhere else to go.

And the Prophet can say he's going nuts as many times as they want – he will not let the other boy down. He's aware that they are under the spotlight, and that, in a way, they are set as an example (and he has pointedly reminded Hermione of that fact, because, really, what was the point in fighting Voldemort if they keep on treating some wizards differently because of their name or their blood?). But more than that, there's a life at stake. Draco isn't a project or an example. He's a human being who currently needs help and support, no matter what mistakes he has made in the past.

Harry sighs and lies down on his bed, still fully clothed. Fuck, but he's tired.

And damn angry, as well. No matter what, everybody will always have something to say about what he's doing and how he's doing it. Honestly, it's like gossiping about the Boy-Who-Lived is the new wizarding sport. He's thought Hermione and Ron would be on his side. They'll probably come around, he knows that, but it's still somehow depressing. And it's perhaps a good thing that Draco can't see right now. That he's not able to read what the Prophet is writing about the both of them these days.

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"Shit, sorry, I should have put that somewhere else. You alright?"

"I think so."

Draco is laying sprawled on the floor of the hallway, having apparently hit the awful troll leg with his foot. Harry helps him to stand, trying not to think too much of the fact that they are both still in their pajamas, barefoot and all, and that the whole situation is surreal.

"What was it?"

"A troll leg."

"A… what?"

Draco's impassive face suddenly changes, the corners of his mouth raising upwards until he's giggling helplessly, his hand still clasped with Harry's. Harry is feeling slightly alarmed by the sight – maybe Draco has hit his head or something?

"Oh Salazar, I wish I could see your face right now. Why in the hell do you even have a troll leg?"

"It's not mine, obviously." Harry rolls his eyes. "It was already there. I just didn't have the time to throw it away."

Draco smiles, a real smile that makes his face seem softer, more approachable. Harry's not sure if he has ever seen Draco smile like that before.

"I was trying to reach the kitchen to have a cup of tea."

"And to eat something." Draco stiffens next to him, but Harry takes his elbow and leads him in the gloomy kitchen. "You're way too thin, and Narcissa has insisted. You need to eat more. What do you prefer for breakfast? I can manage scrambled eggs, sausages, pancakes, toasts…"

"Really? I couldn't cook to save my life."

"I can't say I'm surprised. So, what do you want?"

"I'll have what you have. Surprise me."

Harry smiles inwardly and busies himself with cooking breakfast. Strong tea with milk and sugar, pancakes with maple syrup and scrambled eggs. His favorite breakfast. He remembers that Draco always seemed to have a sweet tooth during their Hogwarts years, so it should be to his taste.

He puts a dish in front of the young blonde man, lightly touching his hand to warn him. He watches as Draco tries to eat and bits his lip. He wants to reach out and cut the pancakes in tiny pieces for the other boy, but Merlin knows he would hate it if their positions were reversed.

"Don't watch me while I eat, please" Draco whispers, and Harry jumps a little.

"What?"

"I can feel your eyes on me. I… It's humiliating enough as it is. Please don't stare at me like that."

"I'm sorry. I just… Look, if you want, I could-"

"Shut up, Potter." Harry winces at the tone – and the use of his last name. "I have to learn, I have to do things by myself. I don't need your pity."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Harry clears his throat and opens his mouth to say something when a brown owl taps on the window. Harry recognizes it immediately and quickly opens the window, letting it fly in the room and land on the table. It's Narcissa's owl. And the letter is addressed to Harry, not to Draco.

Which can only mean two things.

It's important. And it's bad.

"Is that Arthur?"

"Erm… yes." Harry has no idea how Draco is able to recognize his mother's owl without seeing it.

"Oh."

Draco's face is carefully blank, but his hands are shaking lightly.

"Er… It's for me, actually."

"Oh! Right. Of course."

Draco's disappointment is so evident that Harry's chest clenches painfully at the sight. He takes the letter and gives Arthur a treat, careful not to touch the owl – he has tried that once before, and won't repeat the experience. Draco is poking at his food with his fork, his eyes closed. Harry sighs and reads Narcissa's letter as quickly as he's able to.

Oh shit. No.

How in the hell is he supposed to tell that to Draco?


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** Thank you for your reviews! I hope you'll like where this story goes - please let me know if you have any request, I'll see what I can do about it ^^ ! Enjoy and review, please!

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Er... Your mother wants me to tell you that something happened. With your father."

"Out with it, Harry."

"Your... your father has disinherited you."

"Well, there wasn't anything left anyway."

Harry takes a deep breath. Of course the Malfoy fortune is gone, and with it the Manor, seized by the Ministry after Lucius' incarceration. Narcissa has been living in one of the Malfoy houses in Wizarding London because Harry insisted she had to have a place to stay after what she had done for him. Her personal vault has been left at her disposal as well. But Draco hasn't anything left.

"No, I mean... You're not his heir anymore. You're not a Malfoy anymore" Harry blurts out, and Draco is suddenly even paler than usual. He sits stiff in his chair, the hand holding his fork frozen mid-air as though he has been Stunned. "He has learned that you were out of Azkaban, and, well... I didn't even know it was possible for him to do something like that while in jail. Your mother is siding with you. Apparently she's filed a divorce form and took back her maiden's name. She... she suggests you do the same, and er, she wants me to allow you to do so."

"Why would I need your permission?" Draco's whisper is hoarse and barely audible. Harry shifts uneasily in his chair.

"Because, well, Sirius left me everything in his will, and he was the Head of the Black House. That means that technically-"

"You are now Head of House."

"Yeah. That. Erm, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do, but of course you can take the name of your mother. I'll tell her to do what's necessary and I'll sign the papers or something."

"I suppose I should thank you."

"Don't. It's alright. I know how you must feel and I-"

"You know nothing, Potter." Draco spats Harry's name with so much venom that the dark haired young man startles a little. "You have no family. No parents. You have no idea how I feel, so spare me your condescending pity and bloody shut the fuck up."

Rationally, Harry knows that Draco is angry, shocked and probably ashamed, and that it is the main reason for his mean answer. That doesn't prevent the overwhelming urge to punch the blonde in the face. Blind or not, he's still an infuriating and arrogant git and manages to say exactly the things that will be the most hurtful. To Draco's credit, Harry could probably have found a way to soften the blow, but he's not exactly known for his way with words.

It hits him when he sees the way Draco's body is tensed, the way his hands are clenched around his mug and the way his lips are pressed so tightly together that his mouth is just a thin and white line.

Draco is waiting for Harry to retaliate. He's expecting Harry to be hurt and to answer in the same way. It's probably the only thing that would make sense to him: he doesn't understand why Harry is helping him and he wants things to be normal. Well, as normal as their relationship has ever been, anyway. Harry smirks. It's not very noble or kind of him, but Draco's blindness gives him an undeniable advantage. He's able to witness Draco's reactions and body language when the other boy can only rely on Harry's voice.

"It's alright to be upset, Draco." Harry tries to make his voice sound as soft and soothing as he can. "I'll just write to your mother right away, to deal with that name stuff as soon as possible. I'm here if you want to talk about it."

Harry leaves the room before Draco can utter an answer, but the sound of his mug hitting the kitchen tiles is highly satisfying.

HP-HP-HP-HP

He's going to have a word with Kingsley about the fucking asshole currently eyeing Narcissa Malfoy suspiciously. Honestly the sight of the bald idiot munching on his quill while apparently trying to understand what is happening there is as exasperating as it is worrying. It's like prejudice has just changed its face with the end of war.

"Mr Potter, are you certain you are not being… how shall I put it… coerced into this one way or another?"

"Mr Willis, this is getting ridiculous. I'm currently housing Mrs Black's son, who is a schoolmate of mine and has saved my life and that of Neville Longbottom, as you certainly know. There is nothing suspicious with our request, we have brought every single paper you've asked and answered all of your questions."

"Mr Potter-"

"I think this is quite enough, and to be honest, I'm very close to lose my temper. I'm sure you don't want that."

Willis seems a bit at loss, and Harry distinctly sees Narcissa hide her smile behind her hand.

"Alright, Mr Potter, if you're quite sure-"

"I'm sure."

"Very well. Your request has still to be approved by the Minister, and you'll be notified of his decision within two days."

"I don't think this will be a problem. Thank you for your help, Mr Willis."

Harry follows Narcissa out of that moron's office, and is quite surprised to discover that she's waiting for him, her hands tightly clasped in front of her and her face carefully blank.

"Mr Potter, a word please?"

"Of course Mrs Mal- Mrs Black. Is there something wrong?"

"No, of course not. I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done for Draco. I know that the two of you were in no way friends in school, and I know that I am, with my ex-husband, to blame for that. We have made every possible mistake in his education, and we have taken the wrong path, I can see that now, as hard as it is to admit it."

Harry remains silent because he has not the slightest idea of what he could say right now. Draco's mother gives him a watery smile before going on, her gaze not wavering and her knuckles white.

"I am grateful for what you are doing for me and my son, and I consider the life debt between us more than paid. I am aware that I should not ask you for anything more, but Draco is my only son and I love him more than anything. I know he can be… difficult, and his current situation is certainly not helping. But… Mr Potter…"

"Harry. Please call me Harry."

"Harry. Don't let him give up.. Don't let him take the easy way out and just… stop to fight. I've been so proud of him for what he has done during the final battle, of the way he has defied the Dark Lord and… I want him to be that man. I want him to live a life he'll be proud of. Don't let him give up this chance."

Her eyes are bright with tears and Harry remembers her terrified whisper and the feel of her cold fingers on his skin, that night in the Forbidden Forest.

"I won't. I don't think he will either. He'll be fine, you'll see."

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. But there's something you could do for me, and for him."

Narcissa smiles and seems to straighten her back. Harry grins and lets her precede him in the ministry lift. They have much to discuss, and he would rather do it in front of cup of tea.

If he wants to survive this year, if he wants Draco to survive it, they need help and support.

And if Harry can gain some blackmail material at the same time, it would be the cherry on top of the cake, really.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** Thank you for your reviews and support! Here's the new chapter! I'm struggling a bit with this story, because there are some things I would like to happen but it can't be too soon... Well, anyway, enjoy and please review!

HP-HP-HP-HP

"What the hell is going on here?"

The three persons currently sitting in Grimmauld Place's living room freeze and two of them look at him with slightly sheepish faces.

"What are you doing here?"

Harry spares a glance at Draco, who's looking very uncomfortable and faintly scared as well. Harry feels his anger rising. He takes a few steps forward, until he's fairly looming above Hermione and Ron. Ron makes a move as if to stand up from the couch but Hermione touches his forearm, and he stills.

"Hello Harry. We just came to see you and, well, since you were not there, we thought we could have a little chat with Malfoy."

"Draco, could you leave us a moment please? I brought some things for tonight's dinner, maybe you could ask Kreacher to have a look at the bags I left on the kitchen table? Thank you."

The blonde nods and stands up, and Harry sees his brand new wand tightly clenched in his right hand. He'd like to help him out of the room, but he's sure Draco would hate it and feel humiliated, especially in front of the two idiots currently sitting in Sirius' old couch. Harry tries not to wince too much when Draco's toes hit the coffee table – shit, that must have hurt – and lets out a relieved sigh when he's finally gone, the door softly closing behind him.

"Well?"

"Calm down, Harry, it's just Malfoy."

"Actually, it's not, Ron. His bastard of a father disinherited him. I met his mother at the Ministry today and we arranged for him to take his mother's maiden name. They both are Blacks now."

Harry lets the information sink in and takes the time to sit where Draco has been a minute ago.

"There's no need to be upset, Harry. We just wanted to make sure he was not going to abuse from your kindness or anything."

"Seriously, why the hell did you take him to your house?"

"Because he had nowhere else to go. Because he saved my life, and he saved Neville's life."

"Yes, well, that doesn't make up for everything he did in school."

"Doesn't it? I don't know, perhaps not. But how much courage does it take to do something like what he did at Malfoy's Manor? Or what he did during the Battle of Hogwarts? Think about it. We've always been on the right side, because we had no other choice. Ron's family has always been on the Light side. Hermione is a Muggleborn. I'm the fucking Boy-Who-Lived. In a sense, it was an evidence for us. But Draco has been raised differently, with Lucius Malfoy as a father. He was told that Voldemort's views on the world were right by his parents. I think it wasn't easy for him to accept that what his family believed in, what he has been told his whole life was fucked up, and to turn his back on his parents. I think he deserves a second chance."

"We're not saying he doesn't, Harry, we're just worried about you."

Hermione's voice is soft and soothing, and somehow it makes Harry want to throw something at her.

"So what? You thought you were going to corner him here and interrogate him?"

"It wasn't like that!"

"Then how was it like? Because it damn right looked like that to me! I won't tolerate that Draco feels threatened or scared in his own house."

"His own house? Seriously, mate, are you listening to yourself?"

"Yes, Ron, his house. It's his home for the year to come. He has nowhere else to go, nowhere else to feel safe. How do you think he's feeling, when two former enemies turn up unexpected while he's alone in a place he doesn't know yet? He can't see, and he isn't able to use his new wand properly. He's unable to defend himself. It's probably already hard for him as it is, he doesn't need to feel like he's not safe here. I know what it's like to have no safe shelter, as do you."

His two friends have the good grace to look ashamed, and Harry takes a deep intake of breath.

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm more than able to take care of myself. I know where to find you if the need arises. But you have to trust me on this, because I won't change my mind, and it would be nice to have you by my side."

"Of course Harry." Hermione stands up to hug him tightly. "We're sorry. We should have thought before acting. Maybe we could come another time and have dinner with Mal- with Draco and you?"

"That would be nice, yes. Thanks."

Ron is looking like he's just swallowed a whole lemon but he nods nonetheless, and gives Harry a slap on the shoulder on his way out.

He really loves them, both of them. But sometimes Harry just wants to tell them to mind their own business, really.

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"Hi Kreacher! Did you manage to chop the veggies already?"

"Yes Master Harry, Kreacher did."

"Splendid! Just take the evening off, I'll cook for Draco and I."

Kreacher looks faintly hurt – though it's hard to tell with his perpetual scowl – but he leaves the kitchen immediatly, muttering under his breath about Merlin knows what. Harry sure as hell doesn't want to know – just like he doesn't want to know what exactly the house elf is doing in the rooms on the upper floor.

"You alright, Draco?"

"Just peachy, Potter" Draco snaps from his place on the kitchen bench.

"Great. I went to the Ministry today. I saw your mother. She sends her love and hopes you are well."

"Oh. Thanks."

Draco's cheeks are slightly pink and Harry barely refrains a chuckle. It wouldn't do to upset him now.

"You're welcome. Well, anyway, we signed the damn papers and if that idiot of an employee didn't lose them, our inquiry will be approved by Kingsley this week. You'll be officially a Black then."

Draco just nods and Harry busies himself with the preparation of their dinner. He's famished and it smells heavenly – the recipe seemed a bit weird at first, but now that it's on the stove it definitely seems good. Harry adds the coconut milk and his mouth waters at the sight of the creamy sauce.

He puts some of the dish in two bowls and adds soup spoons before sitting in front of Draco. He pushes one of the bowl accross the table and gently takes Draco's hand to guide it to the spoon.

"Vegetables curry with mango."

"How... Oh! Mother told you."

"Yeah." Harry blows on his spoon and tastes the exotic meal. "Quite good, really. I wasn't sure about all those veggies and the mango, but I like it. What do you think?"

Draco doesn't answer, but his eyes shut as soon as his lips close around the spoon and he seems to munch much longer than necessary before swallowing. For some weird reason Harry can't help but looking at the way his Adam's apple bobs and he shifts uneasily in his seat.

"So?"

"It's acceptable."

"Acceptable?"

"Fuck you, Potter. It's delicious and you know it. What do you want, an award?"

Harry laughs whole heartedly and Draco drops his spoon in his bowl at the sound. He's rather pleased with himself that Narcissa's tips seem to be effective, even if Draco is reluctant to thank him for his efforts. It doesn't matter somehow. The curry is delicious – and they don't need forks and knife to eat it, which is an appreciable plus considering Draco's blindness – and Harry feels great, really.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Just felt like laughing."

Draco raises an eyebrow – and damn, but it looks weird with his eyes fixed somewhere on the table – and apparently decides he'd rather eat than understand Harry's sudden hilarity.

They finish eating in silence, and Harry can't wipe the silly grin off his face.


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** This one was easier to write, don't ask me why! Anyway, here it is, enjoy, and please, please let me lots of reviews?

HP-HP-HP-HP

There are muffled sounds coming from Draco's bedroom and Harry doesn't know what to do. Should he come in and make sure the blonde is alright? But what if he's just moving in his sleep or worse... what if he's wanking? Harry's not sure either of them could survive the experience of Harry walking in on Draco doing that. Shit. Maybe he should send Kreacher instead? But if the poor guy is actually wanking, he'll be traumatized for the rest of his life. And he really doesn't need that on top of the rest. Oh, fuck, he'll just do it. Harry opens the door as quietly as he can, and quickly peers inside.

Draco is trashing on his bed, his back arched and his mouth open as if he's screaming, but no sound is coming from his throat. Harry suddenly wishes the blonde had been wanking after all. It would be better than seeing him like that, in the middle of what seems to be an awful nightmare. Said nightmare is probably based on memories, because the way Draco's body twists and arches reminds him painfully of the Cruciatus curse. Shit.

He sits on the side of the bed, knowing that he has to wake Draco carefully, especially since Draco cannot see who's in his room.

"Draco? Wake up, come on. It's not real. You're safe, it's over now. Draco?"

Harry touches the blonde slim shoulder, a bit concerned that he can feel far too many bones under the thin fabric of Draco's pajamas. The blonde's eyes snap open and move from right to left, probably trying to see something. His breathing is ragged and his fingers suddenly grip Harry's on his shoulder far too tightly, making Harry wince slightly.

"It's Harry, you're safe. You're in Grimmauld Place. You awake now?"

"Harry?"

"Yes, Draco. It's alright."

"Is it?"

Draco's voice is too quiet, too soft, too tired. Harry almost misses the sarcastic tone. The blonde's face is ghostly white and his hair is damp with sweat – and probably tears, Harry realises.

"You okay now?"

"Yeah. I suppose so. I'm just... never mind. Thanks for waking me up. I'm sorry I disturbed you."

"It's alright. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really, no."

"Do you need anything?"

"No. Unless you can make the darkness go away. I'm so tired of all that darkness. I dream of darkness and I wake up to darkness."

A pale hand comes up and Draco wipes his brow. He seems to realize that his other hand is still clenched around Harry's fingers and snatch it away.

"I wish I could do something."

"Really? You're honestly not enjoying to see me that helpless?"

"No. Why would I? You don't deserve any of this, and I'm sorry it's happening to you."

"I really can't understand you, you know. I don't understand what you want from me. I'm useless, I'm poor, and I'm willing to bet that almost everyone in the Wizarding World hates me now."

"That's bullshit. You mother loves you. I don't hate you. And Neville and Healer Johnson don't hate you. You're not useless. And I don't want anything, I already told you that."

"I know, it's just... too much. And it's hard because I can't see you or anyone for that matter and I don't know what people are thinking or even what they're doing and it makes me feel..."

"Vulnerable?"

"Yes. And I hate it."

"I can understand. Look, the house is Unplottable, and it's heavily warded. Only very few people know about it and even fewer can come in. I've talked to Ron and Hermione and they won't bother you like that again. I'll adjust the wards to allow your mother to visit as soon as your first visit to the Ministry is done. You're safe here."

"I know" Draco whispers, his hands fisted in the bedcovers, and Harry has the sudden and very inappropriate urge to hug him.

"I can't imagine what it's like for you, but... I won't allow anyone to hurt you, you'll have to trust me on that. And you'll get better, you'll see. Either you'll see again, or you'll get used to it and you'll learn to live and use your magic differently. You're strong and you're smart, you'll be fine."

Draco shrugs and turns his head away.

"Sometimes I wish I had died that day."

"Sometimes I do, too. But we didn't."

"No. I guess it means I have to try, at least."

"Yes. That, and your mother would kill me if something happened to you or if you're not doing well. She can be pretty scary."

Draco snorts and Harry nearly sighs in relief.

"I can't believe the two of us end up living in the same house, though."

"Yeah. A bit surreal, I mean, who would have thought? But... it's not too bad, is it?"

"No. It's not too bad."

"Will you be alright?"

"Yes. Could you turn on the radio, please?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

"Good night. See you tomorrow."

Harry closes the door softly behind him and goes to bed with the lingering feeling that something has changed. Whether it will be a good thing or a bad thing is still unclear, though.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"I don't know how to say that."

Harry lifts his gaze from his plate and looks at Ginny. She's beautiful, tonight, her fiery hair like a halo around her pretty face, and the cut of her dress making her look older than she really is. The restaurant Hermione has booked for them is lovely and quiet, in Muggle London, and the food is really good. Everything should be just perfect, and in a way, it is, if it weren't for the nagging feeling that something is off. Apparently Ginny agrees, because she has barely eaten and she's now looking at him with a frown.

"Something's wrong?"

"Well, not really, but... Oh, shit. Harry, I love you, you know that. But I don't know if I'm in love with you. I... I think we're better as friends, you know. Don't take this wrong, I really-"

"It's okay. I think I feel the same. I just didn't know if it was just me or..."

"Oh! Good, then. I just couldn't do this anymore, you know? It was becoming more and more awkward and all the time I thought of all the fun we had when we were just friends, and, you know."

"Yeah."

Ginny seems relieved and she smiles, a real and beautiful smile that lights up her whole face. Harry grins back.

"I can't believe we just broke up."

"Yeah. Mum will have a fit."

"Probably. But Ron'll be happy."

Ginny rolls her eyes and eats some of her pasta.

"You know, I can't believe I'll be in the same year as Hermione. It'll be really weird, at first. I hope she won't try to make me study all the time."

"Especially since now you can flirt all you want again."

"Hey!" Ginny throws a cherry tomato at him and they both giggle quite ridiculously. "I hope a lot of eight years will come. It's a pity you and Ron don't."

"Yes, well, I think we both are done with school. And Ron's really excited about becoming an Auror, you know that."

"Believe, I know. It's like he's not able to talk about something else!"

"I think it'll be cool. And I have to stay in London anyway, with Draco in Grimmauld Place."

"How is he? He's not driving you crazy?"

"He's doing better. I think. It's hard to tell. We get along better than expected, really."

"Good. I hope he doesn't stay blind. It must be horrible to wake up blind, just like that."

"Yeah. It is."

"Not that I like the git, but after what he's done for Neville... I guess he's not that bad. Maybe he'll turn out alright, living with the Saviour and all."

"Shut up."

"All that heroicness might rub on him, who knows."

"Shut up, Gin."

"Not to mention your splendid aptitude to jump into impossible situations- hey! You'll ruin my dress! Stop throwing food at me!"

"You did it!"

"Yes, but I'm the girl, I do what I want. Boys have to be gentlemen. Especially you, since you're a high-profile personality."

"That's fucking unfair."

"Yep. Will you eat that?"

Harry rolls his eyes and shakes his head but lets Ginny steal food from his plate, because, really, she's a great friend and he's glad to have her in his life.

And maybe because he feels somewhat like a coward for not saying anything sooner about their relationship and letting her take the matter in her own hands, too.


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** And another one! For the ones reading 'Sleep tight, love' as well, I think the next chapter will come tomorrow or on Sunday if everything is going smoothly. I hope you'll like it and let me lots of reviews!

HP-HP-HP-HP

"So, what will you study in September? I know Narcissa wanted you to wait, but I think you should have something to do while I'm training at the Ministry."

"And what do you want me to do, you moron? I'm blind."

"So what? You're going to sulk for the rest of your life?"

Draco doesn't answer. Instead he licks his spoon clean. Harry has now a good knowledge of what Draco likes or not. Treacle tart is not his favorite, but everything with chocolate will put him in a good mood for several hours. And Harry's chocolate mousse is apparently quite good, if the way the blonde has wolfed it down is any clue.

"Draco… What did you want to do after Hogwarts?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does!"

"Harry, I didn't even graduate! Just because you and Weasley got a free ticket to the Auror training doesn't mean the rest of us can do without a diploma."

Harry flushes and is grateful that Draco can't see it.

"I know. It's not fair."

"You bloody deserve it. I just… Before all that mess, I wanted Severus to teach me potions. Even if I could see, I wouldn't want to take an apprenticeship with anyone else."

"I understand. You could use this year to graduate, though. It would allow you more possibilities, and it would let you the time to think about your future."

"I can't see, Harry."

"Oh for fuck's sake, I know! But there's a spell that allow the caster to hear the text before him. You could study like this. And Minerva told me she would be willing to organize oral exams for you."

"You asked her?"

"I did."

Draco is looking a bit lost but somewhat tempted. His first meeting with the Ministry official has been difficult, to say the last. Harry has promised himself to be there every time a visit is scheduled, because the way the young Auror spoke to Draco made his blood boil. In the end he had to remind the man that he was there only to make sure that Draco was actually living in Grimmauld Place, and nothing else. Since the incident, Draco has been much more polite with Harry, but even more withdrawn as well.

"It could be a good thing. I mean, what else could I do anyway? I'm stuck here and you'll be gone most of the time- I-I… not that I care if you're here or not, of course. But you're still better company than Kreacher."

Harry laughs and is delighted to see how Draco's blush spread to his neck.

"I know you're going to miss me."

"Shut it."

"I think I'll miss you too, you know. Shall I owl Narcissa to tell her that you'll be needing seventh year books?"

"I… Yes, please."

"Want a drink? I feel like celebrating."

"Why? Because I decided I'd rather not spend a whole year looking at the inside of my head?"

"No, you silly. Well, I guess it's something to celebrate as well. It's my birthday, actually."

"What?"

"My birthday. I'm eighteen. I've found some of Sirius' Firewhiskey in the cellar. So, want some?"

"What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be partying with your friends?"

"It's… complicated. I'm not a big fan of my birthday. Long story."

Harry really hopes Draco doesn't want to talk about that particular topic, because he has spent enough time arguing with Molly and Ron about it. He's glad that Hermione and Ginny have kindly but firmly insisted that he should spend the day doing what he wanted, because he's sure he would be stuck at the Burrow with a giant cake right now.

It's weird, really, because each year he had prayed to have the kind of birthday they offered him. With close friends and family and delicious food. But this year… This year he can only think about all the people that would be missing. This year he feels way too old for a eighteen years old. This year he just wants to forget that he will never see Fred, Tonks and Remus again. This year he's just painfully aware that he shouldn't have survived long enough to see this day, and that his whole life has been marked by the deaths of the ones he loved.

He's strangely glad for Draco's presence, though. They end up sitting in Sirius' old couch and sharing a bottle of Firewhiskey. They're not talking, and Harry wonders what's going through Draco's mind.

"When's your birthday?"

"January 6th. I don't particularly want to remember last one."

"Yeah."

"Too hard this year?"

"Yeah."

Draco nods and passes him the bottle once more, and Harry drinks. It burns pleasantly all the way down. He'll probably regret it tomorrow morning, but right now he feels blissfully numb. He sighs in pleasure and closes his eyes, letting the back of his head rest against the worn out leather.

"I thought of you, you know."

Draco's voice is so quiet that Harry almost doesn't hear him.

"What? When?"

"Before I lost consciousness, in Hogwarts. I hoped that you would succeed, that you would kill him and that my mother would be safe, with the rest of us. It's quite ironic, really. You were the last thing on my mind before I passed out, and the first when I woke up."

Harry opens his eyes and looks sideways at Draco's profile. There's the strangest and saddest smile on his lips and Harry wants to reach out to him.

"Then Madam Pomfrey told me you did it. And that you insisted that I should be taken care of in Hogwarts' hospital wing and not in St Mungo's, because you didn't trust them."

"Well, I didn't."

"I know. I couldn't believe I was alive. And more than that, I couldn't believe it was over."

"I couldn't either."

Draco snorts and then giggles in a not very manly fashion.

"What?" Harry snaps, a bit annoyed.

"You've always had some self-confidence issues. I think you don't see yourself as the rest of the world does."

It's Harry's turn to snort.

"They don't see me. Not really."

"Perhaps not. Can't say I see you either."

Draco chuckles and Harry follows. It quickly evolves in full laughter, and Harry knows they're both quite drunk, and it's good.

"Fuck, I'm tired. 'M not sure I can reach my bedroom on my own."

"I'll help you. As soon as the room stops spinning."

In the end Draco leans on Harry as much as Harry leans on him, and they stumble in the hallway in a very undignified manner. Harry watch as Draco collapses on his bed with a sigh, fully clothed and with his hair mussed in a way that should not be so cute. He closes the door with a grin, and tries to climb the stairs without falling too much.

His birthday has not been as depressing as it could have been. Harry falls asleep sprawled on top of the covers, and dreams of fire and blond hair.


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** And here you are! I'm sorry it took longer than usual but I needed the time to think about the way I was going to write this one. I think I did okay!

As usual, enjoy and let me looooots of reviews!

HP-HP-HP-HP

His first day of training has left Harry drained and disappointed. Apart from Ron – and thank Merlin for his friendly and understanding presence - everyone has treated him with that kind of disgustingly syrupy deference that boarded on worship, and the courses have not even been that interesting. He has a headache the size of Ireland and is seriously wondering if it will be worth it in the end. He's not even sure he wants to become an Auror. It seemed like the right thing to do, after the war and all, but now... He's not so sure anymore. Three years of studies behind a desk with a bunch of young wizards who have not the slightest idea what he and Ron have faced since they were mere boys seem like an eternity. Their last year as trainee would be spent on the field, at least, where each of them would be paired with an experienced Auror, and that was something Harry looked forward to.

Harry sighs and enters Grimmauld Place. There are hushed voices coming from the living room, so Harry guesses that Narcissa is here. The last month has been quiet for both Harry and Draco. The blonde has learned a few spells that makes his life easier, and Healer Johnson seems satisfied with his progress, both physically – he has put on a few much-needed pounds – and mentally – he seems to get slowly better. His nights are often disrupted by nightmares, though, and Harry has finally put a Monitoring Charm on his bedroom, so that he's able to go and wake him up whenever it happens. Whether Draco knows about the charm is not clear, but he has never complained to find Harry gently shaking him awake.

He's about to climb the stairs and head to the bathroom for a scalding hot shower when Draco's angry voice stops him. He feels slightly guilty for eavesdropping for a second, but it's gone quickly enough.

"Mother, stop it. I don't want to talk about it."

"It's him, isn't it? Did you try to remove the necklace?"

"Of course not! Are you insane?"

"It would be safe enough, with you locked here, and you would be certain if-"

"No. Even if you're right, there's no way I'd submit either of us to that."

"Why? Draco, you know what will happen if this lasts too long, you know-"

"I'm fucking blind, Mother! I have no idea what I will do with my life once this year is over. I've agreed to try and graduate, mostly because I don't want to die of boredom in that damned house, but I know that it will not change the fact that I'm useless anyway, and you know it as well! I will not depend on someone else for the rest of my life, Mother, and certainly not like that! If I recover, or if I find a way to be independent and get a job, then, maybe, I'll consider it. Maybe."

"Draco, I can't lose you. Please, I just..."

Narcissa's voice is unsteady and pleading, and Harry feels a stab of sympathy for her. She's obviously worried and desperate. About what, though, Harry can't figure out.

"I'm sorry, Mother. But... this is my life, and my choice. And... and I couldn't live with myself if I just allowed someone's life to be turned upside down because of me, because of what I am. I know how it was for you. I can't, Mother. Not like that."

"I understand. I'm proud of you, you know that? So proud of the man you are becoming. I just wish..."

"I know. Me too. I'm sorry."

Harry hears muffled sobs and takes a few steps back from the closed door, before climbing the stairs as silently as he's able to with those damn cracking old wooden steps. As he slowly strips and steps in the tub, there's one question turning endlessly in his mind.

What in the hell has this been about?

HP-HP-HP-HP

"How was training?"

Draco is sitting at the kitchen table while Harry tries to decide what they could have for dinner today. The dark haired sighs.

"This bad?"

"You can't imagine. The professors kept on asking me for advice and the students gaped at me like brainless idiots. I couldn't wait to be done with the day."

"I should probably make fun of your hero status, but I guess it must have been annoying."

"Pizza?"

"With ananas and cheese, then."

"Alright. I'm not sure if I want to do this anymore, to be honest."

"That's because you're an idiot, Harry. And a Gryffindor."

"You know, I could have been a Slytherin. Nearly was, too."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Not at all. The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, even if it told me I would do well in Gryffindor as well. I begged it not to be sorted in Slytherin."

"Why?"

"Because of you, actually. You were such a prat. And Ron told me about all the Dark Wizards that were Slytherins. That's bullshit, but I didn't know that at the time."

"Well, shit. I couldn't imagine you as a Slytherin."

Harry chuckles and puts more cheese on the nearly done pizza.

"Anyway, you should use your Slytherin qualities, since it appears you're supposed to have some hidden all that Gryffondorishness."

"What do you mean?"

Harry turns around to see the other teen, who's smirking, leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed.

"I mean that you are a decorated war hero – as is Weasley, for that matter. You're the bloody Boy-Who-Killed-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

"And so what?"

"Oh, I give up. The Sorting Hat had obviously a hangover the day of our Sorting."

"You're a git, you know that?"

"For fuck's sake. Your popularity isn't just an inconvenience. Well, it is if you let it be that way. But you can use it to your advantage."

"I would never-"

"Oh, please, spare me the righteous Gryffindor act! You're not going to do anything reprehensible! Did you ever ask for something? I don't think so. And the Ministry owes you, even if they don't acknowledge it. Why do you think you and Weasley were accepted to the Auror training without graduating? It's not because you're good – even if you are. It's because it's good for them. They were shitty during the whole war and they know it. With you and Weasley joining the Aurors, it is as if you're working with them – as if you've always been working with them."

"That's not true!"

"Of course it's not! I know it, you know it and they know it."

"So what? I go and tell them what a bunch of hypocrites they are? I don't see how it's going to help me survive the next three years."

"I give up."

"What?"

"You're really thick sometimes. They fucking owe you and they can't refuse to grant you almost anything you'd want. Especially since you're such a good guy and want to be an Auror, which is exactly what they want you to do. Tell them to go fuck themselves with their shitty training. Ask to be paired with a Senior Auror right away. You're not going to learn anything otherwise and you know it. Besides, that's what you're good at. You've always been an average student, but you were brilliant during practical DADA lessons. I'm sure you could negotiate the same for Weasley. You'll maybe spend two years on the field as a trainee instead of one, but it's better that three years as a student behind a desk, isn't it?"

"I would never have thought of that."

"That's why you would never have made a good Slytherin."

"Probably not. Fuck. You know what, you're right. I'm just going to do that."

"Great. Now that this is settled, is the pizza ready, I'm really starving?"

"You're really a git, you know."

"That's part of my charm."

"Yeah, maybe it is."

Harry feels quite smug to see Draco gaping like a goldfish, and he turns around to check on the pizza. It wouldn't do to lose his advantage now by serving a burned pizza.


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** I'm really glad to have over 100 followers for this story, thanks for your support! I'd be even more glad if you could let met some reviews? Pretty please?

Anyway, here's the next chapter. It's a bit short, but I couldn't do otherwise. Next one will be a bit longer, I think.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Harry sends his now empty bottle crashing against the kitchen wall. He wants to scream his frustration, he wants to drink himself stupid and to punch someone. He wants to sleep for the rest of the week and to get on a muggle plane to travel the world.

"Do I even want to know why you're apparently destroying the kitchen?"

Harry watches as Draco easily finds his way to the nearest chair and sits down, calmly waiting for Harry to explain. He suddenly feels like an insensitive bastard.

"Hey. Sorry. I'm just… They refused."

"What?"

"I asked Kingsley to assign me on the field. To pair me with a senior Auror. He refused. Said he couldn't grant me something like that, especially since I didn't even graduate. And… he said…"

"Spill it, Harry. What did he say?"

"He said I should expect to work behind a desk. He said I would be a liability on the field. That I would jeopardize my safety and that of my partner. I can't believe I've been stupid enough to believe… Never mind. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. What were you going to say?"

"That I've been stupid to believe I could have a normal life."

"That's something I can relate to, Harry."

"I know. It's just… I'm so tired of being used like that. I thought it would be over now that I've done what I was supposed to do and killed Voldemort, but they just find me another purpose. It's… Fuck. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I wouldn't trade my place with yours. What will you do then? Get back to training?"

Harry snorts and fishes two beers out of the fridge. He puts one in Draco's hand, and smiles when the blonde startles a little as the cold and moist glass touches his skin.

"No. I quit. I Flooed Bill Weasley before I came back. He's a Curse-Breaker for Gringotts. I asked him if he thought I could do that."

"What did he say?"

"That he's looking forward to teaching me what he knows and that the Goblins will have nothing against me working for them."

"Goblins are strange beings. But they don't forget easily. They hated Vol-Voldemort, and you got rid of him."

"So what? They'll feel they owe me?"

"Of course not. Goblins mostly see their interest. You're powerful. You're famous. And you working with them will piss off the Ministry to no end. They'll love to have you."

"Anyway, Bill said I had to graduate, that I needed to get good grades in Charms and DADA, at least. So, yes. I thought we could study together. It could make things easier, you know."

"For me, you mean?"

"For the both of us. I could help you with the practice, and, well. You could help me with everything else, really. I'm not exactly a good student."

"You don't want to go back to Hogwarts?"

"Are you kidding me? Everyone will stare at me and try to kill me at the first occasion – or worse, try to feed me Love potions."

Draco chuckles darkly.

"Alright, then. It'll make things more interesting. And I'll get to order you around for Potions. Snape would be delighted to hear about that."

"Very funny, Draco." Harry answers half-heartedly, because Draco is smiling playfully and it's good to see it. Draco suddenly sobers and cocks his head to the side, and Harry weirdly thinks he's looking like a frail bird like that.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. I will be. I mean, I always thought I would be an Auror, you know? But maybe… maybe it's better that way. And I definitely won't regret working behind a desk for the rest of my life."

"You're definitely too restless for that. Plus it would be a waste of talent, really."

"Did you just compliment me?"

"What do you think?"

"I prefer to keep my illusions."

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"Draco, wake up! You're safe, it's not real! Draco!"

Draco takes a shuddering intake of breathe and his eyelids flutter open, and Harry's chest constrict once more when he thinks of how it must be to wake up after such a nightmare and to be unable to see the comforting light of the candle.

Harry can't offer light to Draco, but he can offer warmth. He helps the blonde to sit up and wraps his arms around the slim frame tentatively. Draco seems to stop breathing for a second, and then relaxes in the embrace, hiding his face in Harry's neck and fisting his hand in his rumpled tee-shirt.

It's a bit weird, to be honest. Okay, it's more than weird, it's awkward and uncomfortable and far too intense, to hold Draco, of all people, like that, especially with the way the other boy is desperately clinging to him. But at the same time… at the same time, a small part of him doesn't want to let go.

"Hey, it's okay. Better now?"

"No. I'm fucking tired of having the same nightmares night after night, I'm tired to see nothing but darkness, I'm tired of being stuck here and I'm fucking tired to be a useless Squib."

Harry doesn't know what to say. Maybe Draco just needed to say it out loud? His back is killing him, though, so he tells his brain to shut the fuck up for a while and lies down on the bed, bringing Draco with him. The blonde stiffens in his arms before relaxing completely, his warm body tucked against Harry's side.

"I've had nightmares for as long as I remember. It was really bad at one point. It's getting better now. You'll get better as well, you'll see. I'm sorry that you have to spend a whole year in this house, and with me. I'll try to get the Ministry to allow you to go to your Mother's house, or maybe to Diagon Alley if I'm with you. And what's that about being a Squib? You're a brilliant wizard. You're already able to manage a couple of spells, and you'll only improve. Even Healer Johnson was impressed with your progress."

"I hate it when you do that."

"Do what?"

"Be all rational and sensible. Let me sulk and wallow in self-pity."

Harry chuckles and Draco soon follows suit, their quiet laughter echoing in the dark room. After a few minutes, Draco's breathing is deep and even against Harry's chest, and he knows the blonde is asleep.

The raven haired boy blows the candle with a flick of his wand and draws the covers over them both.


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** Thanks to everyone who took the time to let me a review! It means so much to me! I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter, either way, let me know!

HP-HP-HP-HP

They must have moved during the night, because Harry wakes up hugging Draco's midsection tightly, his head comfortably resting on the other boy's stomach. It feels disturbingly right, to be honest. And the fingers in his hair feel so good...

Wait. Is Draco petting him? Harry carefully shifts his head to take a look at the blonde. Draco is lying on his back, his eyes closed and a half-smile playing on his lips. He looks... content. More at peace than Harry has ever seen him. Maybe he's taking comfort in their embrace? Harry's not used to be cuddled or hugged, but Draco probably is, even now. Narcissa, as cool as she always appears, loves him deeply, that much is obvious, and Harry can easily imagine her hugging and kissing her son. Draco probably misses her touch and comfort, especially with everything that is happening to him. Harry is suddenly glad to wake up without morning wood because that would have been awkward.

Draco's warm fingers brush against his scalp and Harry shivers. His body's reaction probably alerts Draco that he's awake, because the blonde stiffens instantly, his hand frozen in Harry's hair.

"Er... Good morning?"

"Get off me, Potter" Draco spats, and Harry almost rolls his eyes. "What are you even doing in my bed?"

"Calm down. You had a nightmare, remember?"

Harry sits up and looks at Draco. The blonde is flushed and is biting his lower lip so hard that it must hurt. He seems... embarrassed? Ashamed? And so, so vulnerable that Harry suddenly feels a surprising surge of protectiveness toward him.

"It's alright, you know. I don't mind. Besides, it's nice to cuddle. Your mother told me you liked that so much when you were a kid that you barely left her arms." Harry smirks as the blush on Draco's face spreads to his neck. He's known he would use this bit of information sooner or later. "It's kind of... new, but I think I like it as well."

"Well, don't get used to it. It won't happen again. Wait, what do you mean it's kind of new?"

"Nothing."

"Harry!"

"Let's say that my relatives weren't really fond of me. I think it's Hermione who gave me my first hug, in first year."

"What?"

"It's alright."

"No, it's not. Fuck. I always thought you had a sickeningly sweet family, like Weasley or something. I actually wondered why you never go to see them."

Harry snorts. The Dursleys would probably shut the door in his face, should he come to visit them. Not that he would want to anyway.

"They didn't want me in the first place. Dumbledore left me there after the death of my parents. For blood protection."

"But... Surely there could have been another solution... Didn't anyone realize that you were not happy there?"

"I doubt they even checked on me, or they would have known I was more a house-elf than a child."

"Fuck. What did they do to you? Tell me, Harry."

"It doesn't matter. It's in the past."

"Yes it does, if-"

"Look, Draco, I really don't want to talk about it. They didn't love me, they didn't treat me like one should treat a child, and I don't want to see them ever again. But I've got a family in the Weasleys, I've got friends and it's enough. Maybe someday I'll have a family of my own. I want to move forward, not to be stuck in the past."

"Alright."

For some reason, Draco is looking sad, and almost hurt.

"And don't tell me it's been all roses for you either. I know Lucius."

"But I had my mother."

Draco raises a hand, blindly searching for Harry in front of him. Harry wraps his fingers around Draco's and squeezes once.  
"It's alright, Draco. I've made my peace with it."

The blond just tugs on Harry's arm until he's close enough feel Draco's breathe on his cheek. Then he carefully hugs Harry, resting his chin on the dark haired boy's shoulder.

"I'm glad you did. But it doesn't mean you can't be hugged now. It'll make up for the past. And I'm very good at cuddling, of course."

"Of course" Harry snorts.

"Well, I'm a Black. We're good at everything."

Harry draws back and smiles, taking in the smug grin and mussed hair.

"Well, if you're anything like Sirius, then you probably are. Though he was a Gryffindor through and through... But when I think of it, you've been acting like a real Gryffindor during the final battle, I mean saving Neville and put yourself at risk like that was really-"

"I would really shut up now if I were you."

Draco growls. He is pouting like a petulant child, and for some reason Harry can't stop looking at his lips.

"Breakfast? I'm starving."

Harry is out of Draco's bedroom in a second, his heart pounding and his mind thoroughly confused. What the fuck is wrong with him now?

Maybe he shouldn't let Draco hug him like that. Despite what he said to the blonde, he's still angry for his stolen childhood. He's still craving for love, for tenderness. Desperatly so.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Obviously, going to a Muggle bar with Dean and Seamus was a very bad idea. He should have known. But he had not seen them for weeks, and they insisted so much... He had not expected them to bring him in that kind of bar, obviously, but he has to admit he had a lot of fun – at least at the beginning. They drank a lot of cocktails with fancy names and he had pretended not to look whenever Dean and Seamus snogged the hell out of each other. They laughed a lot, talked a little about the war, and drank some more. And then Seamus said he wanted to dance.

And this is how Harry finds himself dancing in a very gay bar, looking at his two very gay friends in the meager hope to get some help while a very gay man is plastered to his back.

Not that it is completely unwelcome, mind you. The man is taller and broader than Harry, and that feels surprisingly good and comforting, and his hold on Harry's hips is both sure and loose – as if he wants to make sure that Harry knows he can escape if he wants to. The only question is, does he want to? He is obviously a bit drunk. That would explain why he doesn't seem to be able to think clearly. The man – Jim or Jay or something like that – gently turns Harry until they're facing each other, and he smiles, his teeth almost too white in contrast with his dark skin. His fingers touch Harry's cheek lightly, and then he leans forward and lets their lips touch.

Harry gasps and the man apparently takes it as an invitation to deepen the kiss, which he does with plenty of skills and tongue and lips, much to Harry's panic.

It feels so, so wrong.

Not because he's being kissed by a man – and that's a discussion he would have to have with himself later, because, honestly? – but because Harry is suddenly very sure that it's not the right person. He shouldn't be doing this. He has no idea why, but he's sure that it has to stop. The man lets him takes a step back, a worried expression on his handsome face.

"Alright there?"

"I... I can't do this."

"I'm sorry, I thought you wanted this. You okay?"

"I just... Yes. I'm not sure..."

"Oh! A bit confused, are you? We all get through this, more or less. I think your friends are waiting for you, Harry. I hope I didn't scare you too much."

"No! No. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Here's my number. Call me when you're ready."

Harry stands frozen, his lips still tingling and the piece of Muggle paper in his hands. Seamus drags him away to meet Dean and the three of them makes their way out of the crowded bar. Harry's friends are looking a bit sheepish.

"Harry?"

"Did you bring me here on purpose?"

"No. We like it here, and we thought you may like it as well."

"You think... You think I might be..."

"Well, not necessarily. You maybe swing both ways, like Dean" Seamus answers unhelpfully. "Or you were just in the mood for some experimenting. Or maybe you're just drunk."

"Seamus! Harry, I think you shouldn't freak out too much. Go home and sleep. Maybe things will be clearer in the morning."

Home sounds like a good idea. Yes, he wants to go home. He needs to go home, even.

Why exactly, he's not sure.

HP-HP-HP-HP

In a dark house somewhere in London, a blonde boy is screaming in pain, his chest burning and his hair damp with sweat.


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** I'm sorry that I don't get to update his as regularly as I usually do. Real life is crazy and I've got another WIP (check my profile!). Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter!

Oh! And a chocolate chips cookie for Brikaylaco for pointing out Draco's particularity ^^ ! I didn't want to tell right away, I thought it made it more interessant if you discovered it by yourselves!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Harry is surprised to find Draco already up the next morning. The blonde is sipping on a cup of tea and looking completely exhausted.

"Draco, you alright?"

"Fine" Draco snaps without raising his head. Harry suddenly feels guilty. What if Draco had terrible nightmares while he was out?

"You look like shit. You look worse than I do and I was the one partying last night. Did you have a bad night?" he asks softly, hoping that Draco will understand.

"Spare me your condescending pity, Potter."

Shit. Pointing out the fact that Harry is able to go out and have fun with his friends while Draco is stuck in Grimmauld Place wasn't the smartest thing to do.

"I'm sorry. I'm still trying to convince the Ministry that you could get out of the house as long as I'm with you and-"

"As if I would want to spend time with you and your male conquests."

"What?"

"Oh please, give me a little credit. I'm blind, not stupid. You went out with Finnigan and Thomas – those two are an item since fifth or sixth year. Don't tell me you didn't go to a gay club or bar."

"Homophobic, Draco?" Harry spats before he can think about it.

Draco snorts, his cheeks almost comically pink now, and takes another sip of his tea. "You know nothing, Potter."

"Why does this upset you that much? If it's not the gay part – and believe me, it's been quite a surprise for me as well – and if you don't want to come with-"

"Look, just let it lie, okay? I'm just tired."

That's probably the closest thing to an apology Harry will get, so he just nods, before remembering that Draco can't see it.

"Alright."

"Did you have fun?" Draco whispers, and there's a hint of pain in his voice that Harry doesn't understand. The dark haired teen sighs.

"It was... Weird. I mean I had a good time with Seamus and Dean, but then... a guy kissed me. I never thought... I don't know. Maybe that's why it never really worked with Ginny. I loved her – I still do – but not like I should have. Maybe it's because I don't like girls like that. But at the same time... it didn't felt that right either yesterday. I mean, it was good, really good, but I had this feeling that I shouldn't have done it."

"Maybe you're just confused."

"No. Well, a little bit I suppose, but I think I'm sure I prefer men. No it was something else. I just don't know... I can't quite describe what I felt."

Harry realizes he has no idea why he's suddenly discussing his sexual orientation with Draco, of all people. The other boy is looking distinctly uncomfortable, with his hands balled into tights fists on his lap. Harry feels like an idiot, honestly.

"Er... sorry. You probably don't want to hear that."

"Not really, no."

"Breakfast, then?"

"Yeah."

Harry quietly makes breakfast for the two of them, before piling sausages and mushrooms with toasts on their plates. Draco takes unenthusiastic and miniscule bits and Harry finally has enough.

"Draco, look, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier. But even if I'm gay – oh Merlin, I'm gay! I need to speak with Hermione, maybe... Well, anyway, it doesn't mean I'm going to jump you or anything. It doesn't have to change anything between- Draco?"

The blonde stands up and leaves the kitchen so quickly that Harry is afraid he'll hit his head against the doorframe, but Draco makes it out of the room.

That went well, Harry thinks with resignation.  
He really needs to speak with Hermione.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Draco is studying, curled in an old armchair with a book on his lap. His wand is pointed on the page and he seems to focus intently to keep the spell working. The disembodied voice enumerates the numerous uses of some sort of flower, if Harry understands correctly – which is not sure at all, considering his abysmal ignorance in potions.

"Are you going to stand here all afternoon or do you want to actually study something?"

"Sorry. Didn't want to disturb you."

"I'm almost done. What did you want to study today?"

"Erm, Charms. If it's alright with you."

"Alright. Let me finish this and we'll begin."

Harry hums in agreement and tries to figure out where to sit for this. The living room is too dark for his taste, with the heavy curtains drawn like that. He almost asks Draco if he may open them before he catches himself. He's really stupid sometimes. No wonder Draco dislikes him so much. He wonders why the thought bothers him that much – it's not as if he ever expected them to become best mates all of a sudden, but the fragile truce between them seems broken since yesterday morning and that stupid confession of his about his sexuality.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Did you... did you change something in the room?"

"Well, I've opened the curtains, it's too dark otherwise. Why?"

"I thought... I just- never mind, it's probably nothing."

But the blondes pale hands are shaking so much that his wand falls to the floor, and Harry quickly crosses the room to kneel in front of him. He gently retrieves Draco's wand from the old rug and gives it back to his owner, gently closing the trembling fingers around it.

"What happened? Tell me."

"I thought I saw something. But it can't be, it's just my brain playing nasty tricks on me."

"Maybe. We'll tell Healer Johnson about it next time she'll come to check on you, alright?"

"Yeah."

Harry understands what Draco doesn't say. That he doesn't want to hope, because the disappointment would crush him. That he wants to hope, because being trapped in the darkness forever is scaring the shit out of him, despite of the brave face he's showing to the world most of the time. That the painful uncertainty of it all is slowly becoming too much to bear.

There is nothing Harry could say to alleviate Draco's pain and fear. So he just kneels there, one of his hands on Draco's wand hand, hoping to offer comfort and warmth and friendship. And all the time, he knows it's not enough, and he's sure he should be doing something else to help his friend – or roommate, or whatever he is.

After a few minutes, Draco leans back in his armchair.

"Let's see what today's lesson in Charms is about. Maybe I'll be able to cast something this time."

"Probably. You've been doing better."

"I'll soon be better than you at everything again, Harry. Let's face it. Even blind, I'm still me."

Harry laughs whole heartedly, pleased to see Draco's smirk – not a mean one either, but a teasing and playful lopsided grin.

"That you are, Draco. That you are."

HP-HP-HP-HP

There are hands everywhere, caressing him, teasing him with fleeting touches that leave him crazy with need. He's burning, he's burning and nothing has ever felt so good, so freeing, so insanely right.

There are lips as well. Soft and warm, kissing his collarbone, his neck, his jaw, and – oh Merlin – each of his nipples. He's panting now, he can hear himself breathing heavily in the dark room. It's so dark that he can't see, not matter how wide he opens his eyes.

His hands raise of their own accord, it seems, and find hard muscles playing under smooth skin. A man's back. Shoulders not as broad as his own, but definitely masculine nonetheless. The man must be lean but toned, and Harry moans appreciatively. He wonders if the soft skin is pale or dark, if it's unblemished or covered in freckles.

His lover moves over Harry's body and lowers himself until their skins meet from thighs to chest, and it sends sparks of pleasure through Harry's body. If only he could see him, he wants to know who's making him feel so good, and he wants more, more and more until it's too much. Soft lips kiss his mouth and heat explodes in his whole body.

Harry wakes up as he comes inside his pajama bottoms, drenched in sweat and feeling both sated and unsatisfied. Harry casts a mild Cleaning Charm at himself with a sigh and winces at the sensation. He should practice this spell more.

Maybe he should call the man from the club. He's obviously in need of some action. But somehow the prospect of seeing him again, of letting him kiss and touch him isn't as appealing as it should.

Before sleep takes him again, the weirdest idea comes to his mind.

_It's because we don't belong together._


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** New chapter! Thanks for your reviews! So anyway, here you are... I don't know what happened, it wasn't at all what I had planned. Those two can't seem to just do as they are told! Stubborn gits! Hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

HP-HP-HP-HP

September is almost gone when Bill comes to check on Harry's progress and talk about his future career.

And Harry is a bit worried about that particular visit, to be honest. His relationship with Draco seems to get better, even if there's always a weird tension in the air every time that Harry goes out for a drink. Draco is a hard worker, able to spend hours in the library doing nothing but learn, to Harry's disappointment. He would get along with Hermione just fine, as strange as the concept seems. Harry supposes he should be grateful for the blonde dedication to his studies – no doubt Harry would never do anything if he were here on his own. While he's not as studious as Draco, he manages to spend several hours a day reading his books and asking questions to the blonde – who smirks each time and obviously enjoys his superior knowledge on almost everything.

Healer Johnson has crushed Harry's hopes that Draco might see again really soon on her first visit after the incident with the curtains. While it is actually a good sign that Draco is able to see if the room he is in is dark or not, she can't tell if it will stay that way or evolve toward a complete recovery. Draco has shrugged and told he was happy with anything he got, and his quiet acceptance has disturbed Harry in more ways than one. Truth to be told, Draco is doing surprisingly well. He never complains anymore, studies restlessly and knows his way around the house in a way that makes Harry slightly jealous – probably because he's still his clumsy self and can't spend a whole day without bumping into something. But the thought of Draco being never able to see again makes Harry's gut twists unpleasantly. It's wrong and it's unfair. And there's nothing he can do about it.

Harry feels the need to vent his frustration with manual labor these days. He feels that if Draco is stuck here, he should at least live in a decent house. It's probably pretty stupid because Draco can't see anyway, but it gives Harry something to do, and it helps him not feeling so useless. He's quite proud of what he's already done and he can't wait until Ron and Hermione see it. Narcissa said she was impressed last time she came and patted him on the shoulder with a 'I-know-what-you're-trying-to-do' kind of smile that left him a bit embarrassed. He forgives her easily, though, since she managed to get Sirius' mother blasted portrait off the wall during one of her previous visits. Grimmauld place has now a brand new kitchen with Muggle devices that allow Harry to cook like he's used to. The living-room and the library are now clean and light is pouring through the high windows now that Harry has taken down the heavy – and dusty – curtains. He has even painted the walls of both rooms in a nice cream color and bought thick carpets. The first floor is nearly done, and then he will work on the bedrooms and bathrooms of the upper floors.

Yes, it's been an interesting couple of weeks, really. Harry looks at Draco, who's sitting next to him on one of the library's couches and apparently trying to translate Runes – why anyone would want to study Runes, of all thing, is beyond the dark haired.

"Harry, stop fidgeting like a three years old, I can't hear myself think. What's gotten into you today?"

"Bill's coming later" Harry blurts out. Draco stills next to him, his hands clutching his textbook so tightly that Harry begins to fear for the poor thing's integrity.

"Bill as in Bill Weasley?" Draco whispers, looking so utterly terrified that Harry had to fight the urge to hug him and tell him that everything is going to be alright. Frankly, the protectiveness he's feeling toward the blonde is becoming quite worrying.

"Yes. He wants to see how I'm doing in Charms and Transfiguration and DADA. And he wants to give me some books on Curse-Breaking to read I think."

"Oh. Alright."

Harry wants to say something, anything really, but suddenly Draco closes his eyes and to Harry's horror, tears are suddenly rolling down his pale cheeks.

"Draco?"

"Would you... would you please send him here, when he arrives? I- I need to tell him something."

"Of course. Are you alright?"

"No. But it's something I need to do."

"I know."

Harry feels an unexpected surge of pride for Draco and is about to add something when the blonde snorts.

"Shut up, Potter."

"What?"

"I know you're about to say something stupid. Don't."

"Okay." Harry smiles and squeezes Draco's shoulder once before leaving the room.

He might not have said hit, but he has the feeling that Draco knows anyway.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Bill seems rather shaken after his talk with Draco, but he doesn't say anything about it and Harry knows he has no right to ask. He's sure that Bill wouldn't held Draco responsible for Greyback's actions – especially since Draco sincerely didn't know the werewolf would come to Hogwarts, and considering the kind of pressure he had been under at the time.

Bill seems fairly satisfied with Harry's progress and insists that he studies as hard as he can.

"I think you'll do well. Curse-Breaking requires both instinct and knowledge. I know you possess the first, and I'm sure you'll acquire the second, especially with the proper motivation."

"You think I could do that, then?"

"Harry... Frankly your lack of self-confidence is becoming tiring, you know."

Harry flushes and looks away, but Bill rises and puts his hands on the dark haired teen's shoulders.

"I think you could do many things. You're smart, you're a hard worker when you put your mind to it, and you're a powerful wizard. You've got a practical mind and you think quickly. I think you'll be an excellent Curse Breaker. For now, focus on your studies."

"Yes Mum" Harry answers with a childish grin.

Bill cuffs him around the head with a rumbling laugh.

"Brat. I'll be going, then. Oh, one more thing, Harry."

"Yes?"

"Be kind to Draco, will you?"

There's something in Bill's eyes that Harry doesn't quite understand but he nods anyway.

"Good. See you, Harry."

Harry watches Bill disappears through the Floo, torn between excitement for his future career and puzzlement at Bill's obvious worry and cryptic words. There's something he's missing, and he doesn't like it.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"This is hopeless."

"Did you slice the worms?"

"Yes I did!"

"Did you turn twice clock-wise and then twice-"

"Yes! I did everything you told me! It's still looking like someone just puked in the cauldron! Hell, it even smells like it!"

"The smell is normal, Harry."

Harry eyes the disgusting content of his cauldron dubiously.

"Is it?"

"Yes. Which color is it?"

"Well... Something between kaki and maroon, I'd say. Just like puke."

Draco chuckles quietly next to him and Harry grins at the sound.

"I think we made it, then."

"Ew. I hope I'll never go bald. No way I'll put that on my head."

"Maybe you should just vanish the potion."

"Yeah. Brilliant idea."

"I am brilliant. I even managed to get you to make a correct potion."

"Pretentious git." Draco's smug smirk falters slightly and Harry hastily adds "You're lucky I like you. So, dinner?"

"Yes."

Half-way through their meal, Harry remembers he has not told Draco about his plans for the night and quickly a mouthful of pasta.

"I'll be out tonight."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Finally got the guts to call that man from the gay bar, you know? Jay."

"Did you now?"

Draco's voice is full of venom and Harry blinks, a little taken aback.

"Draco?"

"You don't even know him! He could be plotting something or just be trying to get in the Savior's trousers for all you know!"

"He's a Muggle! He doesn't know who I am!"

"You can't be sure! He'll probably be running to the papers the second he's done fucking you to sell his story!"

"Because Merlin forbids someone could actually want me for me, right? You know what? Fuck you, you bastard."

Harry storms out of the house, his heart pounding in his chest and his eyes full of tears. It doesn't matter if Draco has a valid point – one that Harry has thought about on his own, thank you very much. He knows exactly what he looks like and how awkward he is with the whole dating thing, all stutters and embarrassing blushes and shaking hands. He knows Jay could be pretending.

It doesn't matter. Draco has no right to tell him those things. He has no right.


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** Thanks for your reviews and support! I really appreciate it, it keeps me going on this story! So, here you are, I hope you'll enjoy it! R&R please!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Fucking hell. Draco was right. Of course he was. He's always right, isn't he?

It shouldn't hurt that much. Harry doesn't even really like the man.

It hurts nonetheless. Memories from the evening before come to his mind, each one more mortifying than the other. Jay's kind smiles and small touches. The both of them eating Indian take-away on a bench. Jay kissing him heatedly, and slipping his hands under Harry's shirt. Fingers finding their way in his pants and bringing Harry to completion, his head nestled in the warm crook of the dark man's neck.

Harry is feeling ashamed and betrayed, of course. But more than that, he's so angry that the cup of tea in front of him rattles dangerously. He has to calm down before he blows up the whole kitchen.

**_The Boy-Who-Lived Gay! Shocking revelations from his male lover!_**

He's angry at Jay. He's angry at himself. He's angry at the whole wizarding world for having such an interest in his personal life. He's served his purpose. He's done what he was supposed to do. Doesn't he deserve a little peace? Doesn't he deserve to enjoy himself from time to time? Doesn't he deserve discretion and respect from all these people whose life he saved?

His cup of tea explodes in front of him and Harry gasps as two shards hit his raised forearm. Thankfully the tea has already cooled, or he would have burned himself quite badly.

Draco enters the room, his wand drawn, looking disheveled and exhausted.

"Harry? I heard something…"

"Calm down, Draco. It's nothing" Harry replies tiredly. "You're looking exhausted, Draco."

"I didn't sleep well."

The blonde sits next to Harry and sighs. Harry laughs hollowly, because, really, it'll probably make Draco's day.

"You were right, you know. My stupid face is plastered all over the Prophet this morning. They even pretend I'm cheating on Ginny. Merlin, I'm actually glad you can't see that. I can't believe I didn't notice that there was someone else around. He had all planned, you know? A friend of his was taking photographs of us. So, yeah, you were right, and today the whole world knows what I look like when I come."

Draco is looking faintly ill, and his face is lacking the smug expression that Harry has been sure to see. Eyelids slowly close, hiding the grey orbs, and Draco seems to take a calming breath.

"Draco? You can laugh at me, you know."

"I wouldn't. I'm not what you think I am. I'm sorry that man wasn't sincere."

"Yeah, I should have expected it, really." He should have. It was too good to be true, to have a good looking man such as Jay so openly flirting with him, so ready to spend time with him and to please him. Harry isn't stupid enough to have expected more than a few pleasant dates and maybe some… enlightenment in the sex department, of course. But it would have been nice anyway.

"No. You should be able to trust people."

"It doesn't matter."

"Will you sue them?"

"What?"

"The Prophet. Jay. Will you sue them? It's your private life. Not to mention you're a high profile personality, your safety could be endangered by that type of article."

"You think I should sue them?"

Draco opens his eyes again and smirks evilly, and Harry shivers in spite of himself.

"No. I think you should destroy them."

Harry gapes at him for a moment. He can't do something like that, it's…

It's probably exactly what he should do. He'll never get any respect or any privacy if he lets them think he's still a powerless teenager. It's a rather Slytherin thing to do, but after all, he could have been one. And he's a Gryffindor, he's a fighter. He won't hide and be ashamed.

"You know what? You're right. I'll owl Ryan to help me. And maybe your mother as well. She's used to that sort of things, she'll know what to say and how."

"And she'll be delighted to help you. Ryan is good, he'll win. I mean, if he could get me out of Azkaban, he'll just crush them."

Draco smiles and Harry is oddly pleased to see it.

"Thank you. I'm sorry for my outburst, you know…"

"It's okay. Make me some breakfast and you'll be forgiven."

Harry laughs, but he stands up all the same. Merlin knows he doesn't need a pissed off Slytherin on top of everything.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Harry!"

Hermione hugs him so tightly that he can barely breathe, and he can see Ron rolling his eyes behind her.

"Let him go, 'Mione."

"Hi… Er… I suppose you read the Prophet, then."

"We did, mate. A little warning next time you've got earth shattering news like that?"

"Sorry." Harry feels his cheeks heat with the force of his blush. "It's kind of new for me too."

Hermione smiles as Ron slaps Harry on the shoulder with a booming "whatever floats your boat, mate".

"Draco. How are you?"

"I'm well enough, thanks."

"Good."

"Hey, Blondie. I've brought Butterbeers. Fancy one?"

Harry grins at the now familiar banter and sits next to Draco on the couch while his best friends take the two high chairs in front of fire.

"I'm suing them." Harry blurts out. He feels Draco's knee nudging his lightly, as if to reassure him.

"What? Harry, I'm not sure it's-"

"No, Hermione. I know you're worried, but I need to do it. It has to stop now. If I allow them to write such things about me, it'll never ends. For fuck's sake, they wrote I was cheating on Ginny! That I had numerous lovers for the past years! What a joke! I've not even-" Hermione's eyes widen and Ron is gaping at him. Harry is highly conscious of Draco rigid presence besides him, all of a sudden. "Well, erm. Anyway, the point is, I'm doing it. Ryan is coming this evening, with Narcissa. We'll see what we can do and how."

"I think you're right."

"Ron!"

"No, Hermione. Look, he'll never be able to have any peace otherwise."

"But-"

"Besides, with the Howler Ginny sent them this morning, I'm not sure there's any diplomatic solution left."

"Ginny sent a Howler?"

"Oh yes she did. I feel actually somewhat sorry for the poor soul who opens the mail at the Prophet. She's really furious, you know."

"Shit. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, mate. She knows that. She's already feeling better."

"That's why I need to do it as well. It's not only for me. The people I love will never be left alone either. D'you think Ginny could give an interview if needed?"

"I'm sure she will. So, what do you need us to do, then?"

Harry smiles, and he feels Draco relax next to him.

That's something no one can take away from him. No matter what, his friends are here. And he'll fight to keep his friends and family safe and happy. He'll fight to have a life of his own, with them.

Since when "them" is actually including Draco is not something he wants to think about right now.


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** And here's the new chapter! I'm sorry for the delay, but I've been awfully busy IRL! Anyway, here it is, and I'm fairly satisfied with it. I hope you'll enjoy it as well! Let me know what you think ^^

HP-HP-HP-HP

"Draco! Draco, we won! Where are you hiding now?"

Harry runs from room to room, his frown deepening as he can't find Draco in his usual spots. He finally hesitantly knocks on his bedroom door, feeling a bit foolish but definitely worried now.

"Draco?"

"Just come in, Harry."

Harry does. Draco is curled in the ridiculously big armchair his mother has brought for him, just under the huge window. His face is turned toward the light softly pouring in the room, his eyes wide open as if he's trying to see more of it. His silver blond hair shines beautifully, and his skin seems to glow under the warm sunlight. Harry forgets how to breathe for the tiniest moment, and he realizes with a weird pang that Draco is beautiful. Not just casually handsome. Achingly beautiful, and tragically out of reach.  
He's also looking exhausted and even thinner than he already was.

"Are you alright? You look tired. Trouble to sleep again?"

Draco shakes his head with a sad half-smile and Harry's frown deepens. Draco doesn't just look tired. He looks... defeated. Weary, in a desperate kind of way. Harry barely refrains to reach out to the pale boy in front of him.

"I'm fine, Harry. Did you want something?"

"We won the case. The Prophet will have to submit any article they want to publish on me or any of my friends to Ryan beforehand."

"That's great. What did I tell you?"

Harry chuckles, a bit relieved to hear Draco's teasing and smug tone.

"I know, I know, you're always right and all that. And I've got some other good news. The Ministry has finally agreed to our request. You're free to come and go as you please, as long as you're spending your nights here. At least 10 hours a day, that is."

"Thanks, Harry. It'll be great to be able to visit Mother."

"And we're going to Diagon Alley this evening, we're having dinner with your mother, Ryan, Ron and Hermione. We've got to celebrate!" Harry adds excitedly. He can't wait to go out with Draco, to have him enjoy a night out with his family and friends. The blonde has been stuck here for so long... "And your Mother is already organizing a small gathering for Christmas Eve, just so you know."

Draco has that pained expression again, and Harry can't help but touching his shoulder.

"Draco?"

"Don't touch me. Please, I can't stand it..."

The broken whisper makes Harry take a hurried step back, feeling like he's just been punched in the gut. Is Draco so disgusted with him that he can even bear Harry's touch?

"Sorry" he says through gritted teeth, wishing he didn't sound so hurt.

"You don't understand. It's not... I just..."

"Don't bother. It's okay, I get it. I'll just... I'm going to fly for a while. I'll be back at six. We're meeting everyone at the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry almost runs on his way out, but he swears he hears Draco whisper his name. But it's probably only his treacherous mind making him hear voices. As if he needs that now.

HP-HP-HP-HP

Harry feels rather underdressed when he spots Draco, waiting for him in front of the fireplace. The blonde is wearing black slacks and shoes with a soft looking pearl grey button down, and his black velvet robes are carefully folded on his arm. Harry nervously tugs on his jumper – which quite nice, with its dark green color – and tries not to think of his very Muggle and very worn jeans.

"If you're ready, we should go."

Draco seems a bit startled but nods without a word, and Harry refuses to acknowledge the painful tightness in his chest that the blonde new distant behavior is causing him.

Harry doesn't know how to proceed. The easiest way would be to take Draco's elbow and to Floo with him, but if the blonde doesn't want Harry to touch him…

"Erm… Will you be able to Floo alone? I-I could help you, but I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Draco flushes prettily, and Harry kicks himself inwardly for finding it adorable.

"I could use your help. And, Harry, I apologize. I didn't mean to offend you. There's just… I can't explain but-"

"You don't have to. It's alright."

Harry really doesn't want to talk about that, so he gently but quickly takes Draco's elbow and leads him into the hearth, grabbing a handful of Floo powder on the mantel.

"Here we go. The Leaky Cauldron!"

The restaurant Hermione has chosen is perfect – elegant enough to suit Narcissa and Draco, but with a warm and cosy atmosphere that put everyone else at ease - and everyone seems to enjoy the evening well enough. Ryan is quietly flirting with Narcissa, much to Harry's amusement, and the blonde lady doesn't seem to mind all that much. Ron and Draco are bickering about Merlin knows what Quidditch team and Harry tries not to stare at Draco too much.

"Alright there, Harry?"

Hermione's soft voice breaks Harry's daydreaming and he blinks at her. Whatever she sees on his face must worry her, because there' s suddenly a crease on her forehead.

"Yeah. Fine. I'm fine. Thanks, for you know. Organizing this evening and all."

"Harry… Will you tell him?" she whispers, and Harry's heart misses a beat.

"What?"

Hermione rolls her eyes in that infuriating way of hers and looks pointedly at Draco.

"What?"

"Oh, honestly! Sometimes you're as bad as Ron, I swear!"

"Shhh! I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Really? That's why you can't take your eyes off of him? Tell him."

"There's nothing to tell."

Hermione bits her lip, her cheeks suddenly tinged with pink.

"Harry… I think you really should tell him."

"No. He can't even stand to be touched by someone like me." Harry snorts, and gulps his wine to make the bitter taste in his mouth disappear.

"It's not what you think. Tell him."

"Why do I have the impression that you know something I don't?"

"Because I do. And before you ask, I can't tell you. I promised I wouldn't – even if I think it's stupid. Anyway, talk to him."

Harry stubbornly shakes his head. He's saved from Hermione's insistence by Ron loud laughing. Soon enough, they're all toasting a last time to the day's victories before saying their goodbyes.

Harry wordlessly takes Draco's arm again, and he sighs when the slim young man immediately stiffens. He's so distracted by Draco's presence and his obvious distaste that he clumsily stumbles out of the Floo in Grimmauld Place's living room, bringing Draco with him. He manages to wrap his arms around the blonde before they both fall to the ground, his back hitting the wooden floor hard enough for him to see stars for a second or two.

"Shit… Ow… Fuck, are you alright?"

"I think so."

Harry is still holding Draco tightly enough to bruise, and the blond head is tucked under his chin.

"Bloody hell, I'm sorry."

"You always have been quite clumsy. Are you hurt?"

Truth to be told, Harry has no idea if he is or not, because his brain has short-circuited the moment it realized Harry had Draco in his arms. Draco's hair smells awfully good – something sweet and spicy, probably a fancy shampoo – and it takes all of Harry's willpower not to bury his nose in the soft strands.

"I'm alright."

Draco moves, probably to sit up, and Harry's arms foolishly tighten around the slim frame of his roommate. The dark haired closes his eyes in shame and lets his arms fall to his sides. When he opens his eyes, Draco is sitting back on his heels, his pale fingers playing nervously with a necklace that Harry has never seen before. The blonde is probably keeping it under his shirts.

"Harry?"

"Yes, I'm here. I'm alright. You?"

Draco seems weirdly conflicted, and he cocks his head to the side, making Harry want to hug him again. Fucking hell, he has it bad.

"Everything seems okay."

"Good. Good."

Draco opens and closes his mouth several times, before closing his eyes and sighing.

"Why are you suddenly impersonating a goldfish, Draco?"

"Shut it. You're not particularly articulate yourself."

"Well, that may be, but you generally are."

"I know. I just… Shit. I wish I could see you right now. It would make things easier."

Harry shifts until he's kneeling in front of Draco.

"What things, Draco? What's wrong with you lately? I'm worried, you know, you're-"

"I know. I'm sorry."

Draco raises a hand and Harry catches it with his own. On instinct, he brings both their hands to his mouth and lightly kisses Draco's palm, just once. Draco's sharp intake of breath makes Harry releases the elegant and pale hand.

Draco fingers his necklace again, his cheeks an enticing shade of pink.

"It's not you, you know. What you're feeling. It's not you."

And with that, Draco stands up and flees, leaving Harry kneeling on the old wooden floor of his living room, his lips tingling with the taste of Draco's skin and his nostrils full of the blonde's scent, wondering what the hell just happened.


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN:** And here's the new one! I hope you'll like it - and yes, I know, they're so stubborn...

Next chapter will maybe be in Draco's POV, I'm not sure... What do you think? Let me know! And please, please, review ^^

HP-HP-HP-HP

Harry straightens his dress robes and sighs. It's Christmas Eve, but he doesn't really feel like celebrating. He's worried and at his wits ends. Who would have guessed that Draco could be more stubborn than himself? Harry is sure that something is wrong with the blonde. It's like he's slowly... fading away. Becoming paler, thinner, quieter. Something is definitely very wrong.

Since the celebration party for their victory against the Prophet and the 'incident', Draco has been visiting his mother as often as he could. He's still studying with Harry, but he flees the room as soon as they're done with their daily program. Harry has tried to approach the subject countless times. He has argued, pleaded, shouted, and even begged, but Draco remains silent. He has asked Narcissa and Hermione, and both women have just shaken their head with a sad smile and told him they promised not to tell. And he has no idea what to do anymore, and it's making him increasingly frustrated.

It doesn't help that people seem weirdly drawn to Draco everywhere he goes lately. Men and women alike seem eager to talk to him or even to touch him – and the blonde's obvious horror at this particular behaviour makes Harry snort every time – and Harry often spots people looking at Draco with dreamy expressions and glazed eyes. Harry has often to restrain himself from taking Draco in his arms to shield him from everyone and everything. The sudden surges of possessiveness and jealousy are becoming annoying, really. That, and Hermione's knowing glances.

Harry knows that he's hopelessly in love, thank you very much. He also knows that he won't risk his friendship with Draco by confessing his feelings and ridicule himself in the process. He just wants for Draco to get better. If only he knew what the problem is...

"Harry?"

Draco is looking as gorgeous as usual in his pearl grey robes, even with the dark circles under his clouded eyes.

"I'm here Draco. Shall we go?"

Harry takes Draco's elbow and gently guides him to the fireplace, all the time trying to ignore the tingling in his fingers where his skin touches the soft fabric of Draco's robes. He's used to it now. It's a strange sensation, warming and comforting, that always frightens Harry a little. It enhances his feelings for Draco, it makes all the tenderness and the protectiveness and the love and that fucking desperate longing rushing to his mind and heart, nearly choking him with the force of it all. It's almost too much – he could deal with lust and attraction, but this is far less simple. Fate is apparently a bitch and he had to fall in love with someone who would definitely never love him back. Honestly, after all he has been through, a little reprieve would have been nice.

Not in this life, it would seem.

"Harry?"

Fuck. How long have they been standing in the bloody hearth with Harry lost in thought?

"Sorry. Miles away for a second. Narcissa Black's House!"

Narcissa is waiting for them, a kind smile on her lips – and an arm linked with Ryan's, who's blushing profusely and seems very ill-at-ease. Harry sees the blonde lady frown slightly when she takes in her son's appearance, but she doesn't comment on it. Ryan shakes Harry's hand with a small smile and Harry barely refrains to smirk.

"How are you, Harry?"

"I'm well enough, thank you for inviting me tonight Narcissa."

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course you're spending Christmas Eve with us. Besides, Ron and Hermione are waiting for you."

Harry nods and follows Ryan out of the small library, figuring that Narcissa wants some time with her son. Ryan is silent next to him, and Harry chuckles.

"So, you and Narcissa?"

"Yes, well… it's kind of new. I'm not sure what to expect, to be honest. She's… so different. I feel out of my depths."

"Don't let her fancy clothes and good manners frighten you. She's a good woman with a kind soul. She's not… well, demonstrative, I guess, but it doesn't really matter, does it?"

"I guess not."

"And I think you're a good match."

"We'll see" Ryan answers with a half-smile, and Harry grins back. He means it. Ryan has spent his life helping others, and Narcissa, well… the last years must not have been particularly enjoyable for her.

"Harry!"

"Hi Mione. Ron."

Harry hugs his friends and lets the familiar warmth of their friendship wash over him. Ron is eying the food on the table with hungry eyes and Hermione is elbowing him from time to time to make him listen to the conversation. It's familiar and reassuring. It's like being home, in a way. Harry allows himself to relax and enjoy the evening, even when Narcissa and Draco join them a few minutes later, both looking tense and sad.

It's a peaceful and friendly Christmas Eve, and Harry thinks that he could really get used to it. It's not as loud as the Burrow, and the quiet feeling of kinship is warming and soothing. Harry is sipping his too-strong eggnog and listening to Narcissa and Hermione – who are apparently able to discuss without pause for hours, jumping from one topic to the other so quickly that he finds himself often lost. Ron and Ryan are playing chess in front of the fireplace, and Draco… Draco is sitting next to Harry, his body tense and his jaw set. The dark haired sighs and downs his glass.

Draco is saved from his obvious discomfort when Ron clears his throat and suddenly kneels before Hermione, who's suddenly very pink – and very silent.

"Mione… I wanted to do it at the Burrow, but I can't wait… I know you could do so much better than me, and I swear I'll do my best to make you happy if you say yes… Will you marry me?"

Harry is impressed. Ron has obviously repeated his speech. Narcissa has a hand before her mouth, her ice blue eyes wide in surprise. Ryan is kindly smiling from his spot on the rug, and Draco's hands are clenched so tightly together that his knuckles are white. His eyes are suspiciously shining, too. Harry wonders why he seems so overwhelmed.

"Oh my God… Ron… I don't know what to say…"

"That's a first" Harry snorts, and Hermione glares at him."

"Yes, Ron, yes!"

"We don't have to get married right away, you know, but I thought it would be nice to be engaged, and, you know. Stuff."

Narcissa chuckles and Ron finally slips a simple gold band on Hermione's ring finger.

The blonde lady calls an house-elf – without noticing Hermione's obvious flinch - and ask for a bottle of Champagne, and they're all toasting, even Draco who congratulates the newly engaged pair with a sincere smile.

Harry excuses himself and finds the loo after opening a few doors. When he comes back, Hermione is whispering urgently next to Draco, and Harry stops dead in his tracks. They are both facing the window and they can't see him. Narcissa is watching Ron and Ryan finish their chess game on the other side of the room, and Harry decides to stay hidden in the shadows a little longer.

"Draco, I swear you're the biggest moron I've ever met! This is stupid!"

"I can't!"

"Of course you can! He won't refuse, you know that!"

"Only because he'd feel responsible and guilty and because he'd do the right thing even if it'd kill him!"

"I've seen the way he looks at you, I really think-"

"It's the allure, Hermione! Even with the necklace I have trouble with it lately. I can't even go outside anymore."

"It's not. You don't know Harry at all, do you? He's not just any wizard. He can fight the Imperius. And even when Fleur was around, he wasn't love struck like Ron or the others. I think it's both because of he's so strong-willed, and because his magic is so powerful."

"You don't understand. He thinks he's feeling something, but-"

"So what? You're stupid enough to let this chance pass and die? You're infuriating, you know that?"

"I know."

"Draco, I just… We're all so worried… There's not much time left, and you're not-"

"I know! I know. Maybe it's better that way."

"Don't fucking say that. Don't you dare. We've lost enough people. I swear, Draco, if you don't do something about it, I'll tell him. I know I promised not to, but I won't just stay there and watch you be a stubborn prat. We can't lose anyone else. I can't. And Harry certainly can't."

"Hermione…"

"No. Do something about it or I will."

Harry takes a step back and tries to breathe evenly.

What the fucking hell is going on?


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN: **Nothing particular to say about this chapter... You'll see ^^

As usual, please review and let me know what you think!

HP-HP-HP-HP

Harry lies in bed for what seems like hours, wide awake, Hermione's and Draco's cryptic conversation turning and turning endlessly in his mind.

It seems so obvious now. How could he live with Draco for months and not understand what was going on? He's so stupid.

But it all makes sense now. Draco's steadily decreasing health. Narcissa's worry. People's reactions to the blonde. Draco's words as Harry had kissed his palm, that night.

He wants to punch the idiot in the face. Honestly, how stupidly arrogant and presumptuous is he? Harry's anger almost burns his throat, bitter like bile. He stands up and makes his way to Draco's bedroom as silently as he can.

Draco is sleeping peacefully, lying on his back with one arm folded under his head. The silver blond hair is almost shining on the black pillow, and Harry feels his anger fading away against his will. He wants to be angry. He wants to shake Draco awake and demand answers, he wants to tell him what a fucking irresponsible idiot he is. But he can't. He just can't bear the thought of hurting Draco more than the moron has already been hurting himself.

It doesn't matter if Draco doesn't really want him. It doesn't matter if he's forced into this. Harry will do his best, his very best, and maybe one day Draco will love him back. He must Floo to Narcissa's tomorrow morning and ask what he's supposed to do.

But for now, he's going to do what feels right. So he carefully climbs into bed, moving the covers aside and sliding next to Draco. He smiles when the blonde instantly turns in his sleep and snuggle him. Draco inhales deeply, as if he's sniffing Harry's scent, and Harry wraps an arm around the slim shoulders.

He'll be damned if he lets the other man be a stubborn martyr any longer. Merlin knows he's an expert in stubbornness. And he's sure that Narcissa and Hermione will back him up.

HP-HP-HP-HP

"What the fucking hell are you doing here?!"

"Mmmmh?"

Harry has a hard time remembering where he is – and why Draco is yelling at him so early in the morning.

"Oh! Good morning."

"Good morning? Good morning?! Would you care to explain why you're in my bed? I nearly got a heart attack when I felt someone next to me!"

"Sorry about that. Would you care to explain why you didn't tell me that you're a Veela?"

Draco stiffens next to him, his grey eyes widening. Harry's not sure how much he's able to see now but Draco seems to be looking right in his eyes.

"I- How- it doesn't matter. And it's none of your business."

"None of my business? None of my business? You must be kidding me."

"I don't know how the fact that I'm fucking part Veela concerns you in any way."

"It does if I'm your mate."

Draco seems to stop breathing. He's deathly pale, and even in the dark room, Harry sees the way his hands start to shake.

"It's okay, you know. You should have told me."

"Did… did Hermione tell you?"

"No, as surprising as it is, I figured out on my own. I know, it's shocking. Your necklace helps to control your allure, doesn't it? But your Veela is trying to reach out to your mate so badly lately that it's not enough anymore. That's why people continuously throw themselves at you on the streets. It drives me crazy, you know. I hope it'll stop once we've… done whatever we're supposed to do."

"I don't want you."

Harry closes his eyes against the sharp pain that the statement provokes.

"I know. I'm not stupid. I know you don't want me. But I will not let you be miserable – or worse – because you're disgusted with the idea of being with me. You're going to get over yourself for a little while."

"A little while? Veela bonds are forever. You'll be stuck with me for the rest of your life, you dunderhead!"

"But maybe you'll learn to… I don't know, tolerate me. I mean, if the Veela side of you wants me, I can't be too bad. And it's not like we have a choice anyway."

"Get out."

"No."

"What?"

"No. I won't. I don't care that you'd rather be mated with a mountain troll."

"It's not… Harry, you're not thinking clearly. The allure is too strong, I can't-"

"It has nothing to do with the allure, you idiot. I love you. I have for a while now. And maybe it'll be enough for the two of us, you know?"

"Harry… You don't have to do anything. I know how you hate to have things decided for you, how much you want to have control over your life. You don't owe me anything."

"But you owe me."

"What?"

"You owe me. And I want you to stop being a fucking prick and to accept my help. Do I need to Floo your mother or will you tell me exactly what is going on and what we're supposed to do now?"

Draco seems faintly ill. Harry takes his hand gently, squeezing it once before caressing the back of it with his thumb. His touch apparently doesn't disturb the blonde as much as before, because Draco squeezes back, to Harry's pathetic delight.

"Harry I… I can't let you. I'm still almost blind, I'm an ex-Death Eater, I… You deserve so much more."

"Don't. Don't you dare decide for me. If anyone is trapped, it's you. I've already chosen you. I'm not getting the short end of the stick, you are. Now tell me."

To Harry's surprise, Draco's hand travel from his own to his shoulder and neck, before cupping his jaw with trembling fingers.

"I'll tell you if you swear to me that you'll respect my wishes."

"It depends on what those are."

"I don't want to bond with you."

"What?"

"I don't want to bond with you. Not yet. It's enough for now if we're… touching on a regular basis to maintain my health."

"That's-"

"Harry. Please. I'm very serious. It will allow you to think clearly about it. My Veela will think you've accepted it and my allure will probably not be so strong anymore. In a few months, we'll see what we decide."

"You don't believe me, do you? You don't believe that I'm really in love with you. Alright. We'll do as you want."

Draco looks insanely relieved and his hand leaves Harry's face. He's lying back on his pillow and Harry can't help himself.

He leans forwards and gently pecks Draco's lips, marveling at the softness of his skin and the rightness of it all.

"We'll do as you wish, Draco. But that won't change what I'm feeling. By the way, you're a cuddler when you're asleep. It's adorable."

Draco snorts and crosses his arms on his chest, but his cheeks are a deep shade of pink. Harry's hope grows and he barely refrains to kiss the blonde again.


	19. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer :** I do not own Harry Potter, and I'm not J.K. Rowling, obviously, but thanks for asking.

**Warnings:** Slash (nothing too graphic) / Violence and mentions of past child abuse

**AN: ** A shorter chapter in Draco's POV, just to know how our favorite blonde is doing... Not so well I'm afraid... Please review, it'll make my day!

HP-HP-HP-HP

_Draco takes a deep breath and tries to gather his wits. Harry's unexpected kiss has taken him by surprise – as has his discovery of Draco's… particularity. Draco wouldn't admit it out loud, but he's relieved that Harry has figured it out on his own. The strain of keeping his allure under control and of his declining health is tiring enough, it will be a welcome improvement not to have to hide his condition from the dark haired, actually._

_He can feel Harry's body heat next to him, and actually sees a shadow moving from the corner of his eyes. He can't barely see anything at all, but still, being able to tell if it's day or night, and to see if someone is coming his way – Merlin, how he hates being so vulnerable – is a blessing._

_He'd like to see Harry, though. To witness his reactions. To see his eyes and his stupid and childish grin. He'd like to see him right now, to see if the things he has said earlier are true – Harry is a Gryffindor, and he has always worn his heart on his sleeve. He couldn't lie to save his life – and he couldn't lie convincingly enough to fool Draco, who has spent his life surrounded by liars and people who didn't mean what they said._

_"__Do you know what being a Veela's mate means?"_

_"__Er… no. Not really. I mean, the only other Veela I know is married to Bill Weasley, but she never told anything about them being mates."_

_"__They probably aren't, if she's part Veela. It's very rare for part Veelas to have mates, in fact."_

_"__Why are you different, then?"_

_"__Because my family has been obsessed with blood purity for centuries. Inbreeding has caused the Veela blood to remain strong – it should have been very diluted after a few generations. But Malfoys always marry in the same circles, with families that do the same. The Blacks for example."_

_"__Was it the same for your father? It comes from the Malfoys, doesn't it?"_

_"__Yes, it does. And yes, my mother is Lucius' mate."_

_And he absolutely doesn't want to talk about that with Harry. _

_"__Alright. What does it mean, then? That we're mates?"_

_"__It means that I need you. I need… I need your touch, I need to be with you several hours a day. It will help to settle the bond." He hopes._

_"__That's what you want me to do. But what does it mean, in the long term? Don't even think to sugar coat the truth. I'll ask your mother if I need to."_

_And Draco knows that his mother will spill everything if she thinks it may save him._

_"__I can't be with anyone else. If you reject me, I'll… I'll probably go mad or kill myself. But you don't have to do anything, it's enough if we just sit together while we're studying, for example."_

_"__Draco… What are mates supposed to do? I mean, is there… some specific rituals or courting steps or-"_

_"__No! No. Nothing like that. Veelas generally marry or bond with their mate, if they haven't been rejected. I think if we just manage to stay… friendly, it'll calm my Veela and make it think you've agreed to the mating."_

_There's suddenly a hand on his forearm, and Draco shivers, cursing himself for reacting this way to the simple touch. It's not because of his damn Veela. Not only, at least. It's just… Harry._

_"__Why didn't you tell me before? I know you wouldn't chose me if you had a choice, but… I could have helped you. There was no need to be miserable like that. Do… Do I disgust you that much?"_

_"__Of course not. I just… I didn't want to trap you like that. You're finally free to live your life, to experience and I… I had no right to interfere."_

_"__Oh Merlin! That's why… that's why you were so upset when I went to the gay bar, and when I had that fucking date with Jay, isn't it? I'm sorry. It hurt you, didn't it?"_

_"__It doesn't matter."_

_"__Of course it does. Let me care for you, Draco. Let me help you. I want to."_

_Draco is suddenly surrounded by Harry's scent. The strong arms move him until he's lying on Harry's chest, and to his shame, Draco buries his face in the crook of the other man's neck. He can't see Harry, but Merlin, he can smell him, that musky and powerful scent that makes his body hum with pleasure. One of his hands is clenched in Harry's shirt and he almost sobs with relief as the ache slowly disappears. He had almost forgotten how it is to live without it._

_"__It's alright, Draco. I'm here now. It's going to be alright."_

_It would be so simple, Draco muses. So easy._

_Just to take off his necklace and release his allure completely. Just to surrender to his need and have sex with Harry, and to ask the trapped man to bond with him. Harry would accept, Draco knows._

_And he would hate Draco for it later, and Draco would hate himself. Merlin knows he hates himself already._

_They don't belong together, no matter what his Veela thinks. _


End file.
